


Maybe I'll reward you

by LordFlausch



Series: In death, we are reborn [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Bit of Fluff, But only in later chapters, F/F, From Sex to Love, Longing, Slow Romance, Smut, life as a commander, title may change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 13:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10537725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordFlausch/pseuds/LordFlausch
Summary: Upon returning to Adorhal as the new commander, she starts everything for her plan to work and finally secure the city... and then to return to the Undercity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got this out today and am so gald about it! This is probably going to be a fairly long fic. I don't know the amount of chapters it will have, and it is possible this fic will go on for a really long time. But Oneshots will still come for the others, promise! And maybe some side Oneshots for this as well.

The office door closes behind her. The guard standing if front of it eyes her suspiciously, and she can see he knows what they've been doing in there. His eyes flicker to her neck, where the trace of one of the marks Sylvanas left on her skin can be seen. She only raises and eyebrow in response, and he averts his gaze, seemingly embarrassed.  
She chuckles. He must've heard a lot. Without further words, the Death Knight walks down the corridor to the throne room, nodding towards the Dreadguard who brought her here, who bows his head in response. She walks over to the stables, where her Deathcharger waits for her. “Hello, Nightmare.”, she greets her steed, who neighs and nudges his head towards her. 

“Thank you for taking care of him.”

The Stable Master nods as she hands her a few coins, and then the Forsaken bows in acknowledgement. 

“Victory for Sylvanas.”

“Indeed. I shall do my best.” 

With that and a wink, she mounts up and rides away.  
After leaving the city, she sighs. 

“Let's go back, shall we?”

The words come out as a whisper, and the horse starts galloping towards Andorhal, where her new job as a commander waits for her. Adrean Bonewrencher... tsk. That little rat would learn his place. At least, he had made one good job by sending her to Sylvanas. She chuckles.  
The outcome of that meeting had certainly been unexpected. Heck, she just came here to ask for some rogues to kill those scouts, and instead... well, it had indeed been very enjoyable, at least. And the reference of a possibility to do this again is simply to die for. She tells herself to give her all as commander, maybe even to get rewarded. Since when had her mind become so dirty anyway? She hadn't been like this after the times she had sex beforehand. This had been unexpected, sure, but... special? Well... getting laid by the Banshee Queen on her desk is definitely an experience worth remembering. She chuckles and tries to focus her mind elsewhere.  
The supplies she would need for her strategy weren't all there. She would have to ask for additional plague cans and some other stuff to hide them in the convoy. Also, maybe some masks or anything to try to the people guarding that thing. They were sure to die without anything... but given the plague, she doesn't know of something to protect from it. And the strength of the explosion that load would make... no. Whoever would guard the convoy, they would die, as well as the Alliance troops attacking and a good part of the landscape around.  
She clicks her tongue. To not make it seem suspicious, she would have to sacrifice a few good soldiers. And she would have to tell them that their sacrifice would get the final victory... maybe they'd go of their own will. She hopes so, at least. Shaking her head, she makes a mental note to discuss that with the other higher-ranking soldiers later.  
After a while, she can make out her destination in front of her. Some smoke rises up from the town that is not much more than ruins now, for the battles still going on. The familiar mist over all Forsaken towns hangs over the Horde base there, and with a soft smile, she returns.

“____, you're back!”

“Did you have problems?”

“Have you got the Rogues?”

A figure steps forward between all of them. 

“Bonewrencher.”

She acknowledges his presence, raising her head high in the air. 

“That's still 'Commander Bonewrencher' for you.”

“Is it?” 

She chuckles darkly and takes out the roll Sylvanas gave her, reading it out:

“ 'I, Sylvanas Windrunner, Banshee Queen of Lordaeron and Dark Lady of the Forsaken, hereby proclaim ____ ______ to be the new commander over Andorhal and all of the forces there. The previous one shall be no more than a soldier, for he failed me in his task. He will stay there and listen to ______'s orders, as well as everyone else. The quarters worthy of her status shall be given to her.' Signed by our beloved queen.” 

“That cannot be!” 

“It is. See for yourself.” 

“I will! That document is sure to be a fake! Donald!”

He calls for the local Apothecary, who hurries over as quick as he can. 

“Commander?” 

“That document she has... it is fake, am I right?!” 

The Alchemist's hand reaches out, and she hands the paper to him. He skims it. 

“... ______ new commander... previous failed... listen to orders... Signed by Sylvanas. No, this is definitely her signature. The order is real.”

He bows his head towards her. 

“Commander ______, welcome back.” 

“This is impossible!”

“Would you be so kind and shut up?!”

To the Forsaken's yell, ____ reacts clearly annoyed, while gliding down from her horse. He falls silent, yet his eyes remain angry, and abruptly, he turns and stomps away.  
The unit leaders carefully walk over to their new commander.  
Faolan Lostbiter, the ground troops lieutenant, a Forsaken warrior;  
Phoebe Alvingham, the range lieutenant, a Forsaken Mage;  
Yahen Darkbrook, the mounted regiment major, a Blood Elf Death Knight  
Chris Shadowflesh, the spy lieutenant, a Forsaken Rogue  
Keeron Leafspell, the healing forces major, a Blood Elf Priest.  
All lower their heads to acknowledge the new in command. 

“A pleasure to serve you.”

Keeron utters. The blood elf smiles at her, and she nods. 

“You all, come to the command room in an hour. I want to discuss my strategy to win this city once and for all with you.” 

All bow and move back.  
She, instead, leaves for her old room to move her stuff to the new one. It is slightly larger, has a desk and bookshelves in addition. She unpacks her things and lays a piece of paper ready on the table, to remind herself of a letter she will write lateron.  
After that, she leaves for the meeting with her leaders, who are waiting for her, along with the Apothecary Donald. The command room is quite large, with a huge map of the Western Plaguelands on a round table. 

“Welcome, commander ______.”

Phoebe greets her as she sees her first. ____ only nods. 

“How did things go when I was away?”

She starts the meeting with that one simple question. Major Darkbrook steps ahead. 

“We had a short meeting with some Alliance riders on a patrol throughout the woods. Got rid of them, albeit one of the warriors is heavily wounded.” 

“Will he recover soon?” 

“He is a strong Orc, yet I do not know. A Rogue got him... we have to see if there was poison. Maybe he is to die, after all.” 

She makes a mental note to use this Orc to guard the bait convoy should he be deemed to die anyway. She would have to see how he would fare. 

“Lieutenant Lostbiter?” 

“Nothing special with my forces. They train for new battles.” 

“Lieutenant Alvingham?” 

“Just the same.” 

“Major Leafspell?” 

“The Orc she talked of will probably die soon. The other wounded from the last battles will all recover, I hope.” 

"Let's hope for the best. Apothecary Donald?" 

"Nothing to worry you. The researches are going on just fine." 

"Pleased to hear that. And Lieutenant Shadowflesh? Have you got anything to report?” 

“My Rogues are doing well. We got some information from the Alliance, namely... they wish to strike soon. In no more than two weeks.” 

“We have to be quicker, then.” 

“How?” 

“I have a plan. It is risky, dangerous and bound to a great sacrifice and destruction – and apparently, the Dark Lady likes it.”

She chuckles once and notices some of her leaders exchanging looks.

“We will need lots of the Plague.” 

“Then it is sure Sylvanas likes it.”

Donald mutters under his breath, and Darkbrook rolls her eyes. 

“Maybe. Anyway, my plan is the following...” 

She explains everything, along with the fact that many will die, but for that the Alliance troops won't survive the explosion, their base would be vulnerable and easy to take. After she is done, shocked, yet interested looks come from her advisers.

“... you indeed plan to sacrifice our forces, destroy the woods – angering the Cenarion Circle and possibly the Argent Crusade in the process – to win this battle?” 

“The Argent Crusade keeps out of our battles for the greater parts. They only are interested in driving out the Scourge and Scarlet Crusade. As for the Cenarion Circle... I do not know. Yes, we will anger them quite a bit, I fear. Yet, if we win, they can finally do their work here without being hindered by the Alliance... or us. I guess they will calm down.” 

“That still leaves the question of which troops there are to sacrifice.” 

“I'm afraid we will have to use some of all... mounted, ground, range, heal and spy. There is no other way. The convoy has not to look suspicious, yet we can indeed use those who are already sentenced to death by their wounds. The Orc, for example. I bet he'll rather die for victory than in his bed due to poison.” 

“That is true... Orcs and their honour...”

“Many will die.”, Leafspell murmurs sadly, “And I do not agree fully with your plan. Alas, I have no better idea how to get the situation in Andorhal solved just as quickly.” 

“I will need your talent anyway. Should any of the convoy survive – an utterly slim chance, and impossible somehow... you will be asked. And I do not think the Alliance will leave their base uncovered.” 

“I know. But I'm already mourning the dead.”

____ nods. “Then it is settled. If any of you have problems, don't hesitate to talk to me. I will announce the plan tonight, and I will ask for people to accompany the convoy. Lets hope there'll be enough.” 

“What if not?” 

“Then... we will have to find a solution for this. I will think about that in this case. For now, we will begin the preparations tomorrow.” 

“Yes, commander.” 

“Good. Now call for an assembly on the main field. Lieutenant Shadowflesh?” 

“Yes?” - Make sure no Alliance spy is here. Not. A. Single. One. If anyone hears of this, the whole plan will be a failure.” 

“I will order my Rogues.” 

“The assembly is to start in an hour. I will see you then. This meeting is closed.” 

With that words, she leaves the command room.  
Upon the arrival in hers, she thinks about what to do. For her plan, they will need some plague... She would have to ask Sylvanas for that and send one of her best riders to take the message. Sending it via bird or a low soldier would simply be too risky. A good horse and a fine Warrior or Death Knight is what she needs. And if the assembly brought not enough volunteers... she'd have to ask for that as well. Maybe write in a way that won't be too risky, yet hint at the convoy being utterly important. She grins. Her plan would work, one way or another. She is already looking forward to seeing the Dark Lady again after her victory. But right now, she needs a bath and polished armour to talk to her forces later.  
____ strips, goes into her bathroom and fills the tub. While the water is running, she looks at herself in the mirror. The marks Sylvanas left on her skin are clearly visible, the bite marks on her neck as well as the scratches on her upper body. Her whole body looks like it has been a pleasurable experience... and it was, after all. A smile creeps on her features as he remembers being pressed against the armoured body, feeling her queen so close to her... she sighs and steps into the tub, quickly washing herself and returning to her room then. She puts her undergarments on – chuckling when she remembers the bindings are actually Sylvanas' – and starts polishing her plate armour.  
A knock interrupts her work. 

“Commander?”

She hears an amused voice which giggles after that word. Ah. Her dear friend must've returned. 

“If that isn't Ariadne Hollowpest. Come in.” 

The Forsaken Priest, one of the only ones to ever get close to ____ and one of the only ones she likes to be around at some times, enters, closing the door behind herself. 

“Polishing for a good speech, eh?” 

“I have to. My plan requires some... volunteering casualties.” 

“What a nice way to say some of the forces have to sacrifice themselves. I admit looking good helps in convinc- OH DEAR, WHAT IS THAT ON YOUR NECK?!”

The Death Knight has lifted her head to look at her friend, who stares at the bite marks in shock. 

“What happened to you? GOSH, your stomach as well. How did you get... wait.” 

The Priest looks at her with an unbelieving expression.

“Could it be... possibly... you had sex?” 

“I had.” 

“When? Where? WITH WHOM?” 

“A few hours ago, in the Undercity.” 

“With. Whom.” 

“... you wouldn't believe me.” 

“Are you just telling me YOU SLEPT WITH THE BANSHEE QUEEN?!” 

She remains silent, looking in her friend's eyes, then lowering her head and nodding. 

“You're right, I don't quite believe you.” 

“It's the truth. I had sex with Sylvanas.” 

“Tell me everything. How was it?” 

She smirks. “Enjoyable. Very, very enjoyable.” 

“So she is a good lover?” 

“Simply to die for.” 

She stares at her friend with a deadpanned expression for a second, until both of them burst into small giggles. 

“You didn't just say that.” 

“I did.” 

“I suppose she is rough?” 

“Quite much. But to a point where it is really...” 

She closes her eyes and remembers, her head tilting back just a little. 

“Your face tells everything I need to know. Stop talking, otherwise we'll have a horny commander talking and that's not very... fortunate.” 

“Indeed. Now please leave, my armour won't polish itself.” 

“I don't think of that. Let me help.” 

Smiling in response, ____ nods. Her friend sits down beside her and helps her make her plates shiny again. After that, she leaves with a wave while the Death Knight gets dressed.  
She takes a look at herself in the mirror again. Great, honestly. She looks like a deadly leader, one she hopes Sylvanas can be proud of. With a chuckle, she leaves her room and heads to the square in the base's centre. 

“Lieutenant Shadowflesh?” 

“Commander ______. The place is safe. We have found one spy within, and Major Darkbrook sent out some of their riders for a 'special mission' to execute him. We suppose the other spies will have followed them since she sent some excellent soldiers... if there are more. Their bonds to each other seem stronger than focusing on their job. The riders will get everything explained lateron.” 

“A good idea, but next time, tell me about such.” 

“Sure. We just hadn't enough time.” 

“Understandable. Now keep the square safe.” 

“To your service.” 

He bows and takes a leave.  
Meanwhile, she steps upon the podium that has been set up. Voices in the crowd rise up as not everyone knows of the change in leadership. With a glare, she silences them.

“As most of you know, Sylvanas made me commander instead of Bonewrencher. I know not all of you will like that, but I also know the Forsaken are loyal to their queen's command. When my plan is carried out, this battles will be over and you won't have to see me as your commander so soon. I finally want to win this! I want to hand this village to our queen once and for all! For that no Alliance will dare come here again!”

The crowd cheers, they seem to dream of returning to their homes again... or finally living in peace here.

“But as all, nothing comes without a price. My plan will be swift, quite easy and deadly. But we will have to make a sacrifice. I plan to send a convoy loaded with the plague towards our beloved city, albeit taking a detour close to Dalson's Farm. This convoy has to be big. It has to seem important so the Alliance will send a whole lot of troops to take it down. When those are sent out, we will start an offensive against their base and take it down... and also blow the convoy up. I will not lie to you. The guards there will die, and I need volunteers to sacrifice themselves for our victory. And not less of them. We will need quite a few so that it seems worth sending many forces. I want you all to think about that. I do not order you to die. I would like you to do that of your own free will, to prove your utmost loyalty to us, to Sylvanas, to the Forsaken. I need at least 50 who are ready to give their life for Lordaeron. These fallen will get a memorial right here, in Andorhal, to remember what they did for us all. You have 3 days to decide if this cause, this honour, this victory is worth it. Report to Apothecary Jearl Donald if you are willing for this sacrifice. In any case, the preparations for the plan will start tomorrow.”

With that, she leaves the stage, and the crowd remains silent, thinking. Upon returning to her chambers, she sits down at her desk and thinks about what to write. Sighing, she just takes ink and a feather and begins.

_Dear Syl-_

What was that? This definitely is not a proper way to address the Dark Lady. She chuckles about herself, crumpling the sheet in her hand. No one ever taught her how to write such letters, yet she would try hard to make her queen proud.

_My queen,_

Ah. That's more like it. As if this words had opened a part of her brain, she writes furiously.

_I have returned to Andorhal and put the prior commander in his place. He will not shame you with his weakness again, and I am glad to tell you most of the forces have accepted me in his position._  
_The plan is discussed with the units' leaders, and after a few reconsiderations, we will start with the preparations tomorrow. The soldiers know of what I have to ask of some of them, yet I am sure there will be some to watch our most important load whatever it may cost of them. Anyway, I am afraid I have to ask you for more of the one thing we still need for our convoy to work properly, so that we can execute the plan in a week and proudly come to you with Andorhal in our hands._  
_Victory for Sylvanas._  
_Commander _______

She grins. In that way, the Banshee Queen will know of what she is asking for and yet, if the Alliance gets their hands on the letter, they will deem the convoy utterly important. She seals the paper and walks out of the tower, looking for a warrior she has known for some time, having fought countless battles at his side.

“Adric Bonefever.” 

“Oh, commander. I didn't see you coming.” 

“Drop that. We're still comrades.” 

“What is it you have come for here?” 

“I have an important task for you. Could you get this letter to the Dark Lady as soon as possible?” 

“You want me to do errands for you?” 

“This is not any errand. In this letter, I'm asking her for the substance to win this once and for all.” 

“Then... sure. My horse's hooves will fly. Expect me back tomorrow, around noon.” 

“I'm glad to have you.” 

He bows.

“Dark Lady watch over you, Adric.” 

“Over you, too. See you.” 

He takes the letter and leaves for the stables. Smiling, she returns to her chambers, sitting back at the desk.  
This has honestly been one hell of a day. In the early morning, during the night, she was on her way to the Undercity, killing some scouts on the way. She had gotten laid. By Sylvanas. She had become commander. And she was now finally able to work out her idea. She imagines countless ways to finally tell her queen Andorhal was hers once and for all.

_”Maybe I'll reward you when you hand Andorhal to me.”_

That sentence... that sentence alone made her mind wander. She hopes to serve well... and for Sylvanas' reply to come soon. Chuckling about herself, she facepalms. Since when did she feel like 18 again, having crushes on someone? She is a grown woman, dead as well. Crushing on someone... love... romantic feelings... they had died with her. She had become a warrior of the Scourge, without emotion, without fear, without a mind. She had killed the one who was a friend to her in life. Lady Eonys... she had died for her not to be killed and she may never forgive herself for that. She hadn't even quite reminded her then. Just after the Battle of Light's Hope Chapel... it had all come back. Who she was. Her parents. Her siblings. Her friends. Her exes. Laughing darkly, she reminds how much pain there had been. She then had decided never to go to Silvermoon again, not to see someone she'd been close to. She became one of the Forsaken and served under the Banshee Queen. And Arthas had paid for his doings.  
After that, she had done a few things here and there when the Cataclysm started, and then moved to Andorhal to help there. Freed the town from the Scourge. Had found out the truth about that mysterious woman called Lindsay Ravensun. Helped her win the battle against the Alliance and bring down Koltira, but chose to remain there to clean up. When the enemy's forces returned, she had been in the front line and fighting there. Until she was sent to the Undercity.  
In all of those years, she never had a lover. Not even just casual sex. Until today. Definitely an unexpected turn in her life, but not one she would complain about. And the possibility of doing it again and having the Banshee Queen as a... lover... albeit that is a weird term for this as she thinks feelings belong to that as well... was definitely worth thinking about. Not even that. It would be something she'd do anytime, considering the one time she had gotten laid by her.  
Shaking her head, she tries to get her mind off such. Her victory came first. Andorhal first. She writes some tasks for different people on pieces of paper and seals them. The training of the troops had to be toughened, and they may need more supplies, like meat and herbs. And more patrols. And the convoy carts as well. So she focuses on that, and the stack of written orders gets a good amount of sheets, before she decides that is enough and lays her head on the wooden surface of the desk. She can easily spot the bed from there.  
Maybe it would be a good idea to rest during the night, again? After today, no one could possibly take that amiss. Chuckling, she stands up and walks over to the huge bed before letting herself hit the mattress. Just as she likes it. Closing her eyes, she lets herself drift into a light slumber filled with dreams of red eyes she wouldn't remember by tomorrow.

In the next morning, she stands up early to go through town and hand the orders around. She feels occasional looks given at her, but doesn't pay much attention to that. The people who receive one of the sheets listen without saying a word. The loyalty of the Forsaken is simply endearing. She is able to send out two patrols, some spies for the Alliance bases and to look for the scouts, and a few additional squads to go for a hunt or search for some herbs either the healers or the Apothecaries may need in their work. After that, she pays a visit to the Healers and asks about the conditions their wounded are in. Most of them will survive indeed. Some will probably die, and a great part of such already said they would accompany the convoy to be granted a quick, honourable and meaningful death. She smiles and thanks them, and when that is done, she asks Lieutenant Leafspell whether he may need anything... herbs, animal substances or whatever. He writes a short list for her, and she promises him to send people to look for the things requested.  
The Apothecaries come next. 

“How far are you with the plague and how much do we have?” 

“Not that much, I'm afraid. We could use the one we have with the assault on the Alliance camp to weaken them further, maybe?” 

“No. I do not want to risk the lives of the troops any more than I have to. We could use some after our victory to make their camp uninhabitable to assure none will come back so soon. They will have to accept that this town is ours!” 

The Alchemist nods. 

“I wish to speak Donald now.” 

“Right behind you, commander. What do you require?” 

“How many volunteers are there yet?” 

“15. Most of them from the infirmary, one or two are from the forces and wish to die as heroes here.” 

“A solid start. But we still need more...” 

“I am very much aware of that, commander.” 

“I'm trusting your ability to handle this for the time being. Report to me in the late afternoon.” 

“As you wish.”

With that, she leaves and goes up to her rooms to write a full list of everything required and how she would organise the forces she'll send to get that. Some herbs could be gathered at the same time, the water ones for example, and those squads could also get some fish along the way. Maybe some meat if they found some. She could possibly give every squad a list of the things the units need so that if they found some, they could just recognise it and bring it with them. A good idea, actually. Smiling, she writes the orders for tomorrow's tasks, taking care who went today and the training times.  
Noon passes and still no sign of Bonefever coming back. Worrying, she paces in her room. What if he had gotten caught by the Alliance? The letter wasn't that bad to fall into their hands, but he was a great Warrior and thus, a great loss. And what if he got caught on the way back? With a reply? She nervously clicks her tongue and works on some training points for the troops, considering some Worgen may be with the Alliance forces and them not really having much experience in fighting them.  
She hears a knock on the door. 

“Come in!” 

Jearl Donald enters. 

“Is it late afternoon already?” 

“Indeed it is. The sun is to set in no more than two hours.” 

“I see... any new volunteers?” 

“3. We are at a total of 18 now... not even half.” 

“We have two more days.” 

“I know. I'd still consider contacting Sylvanas to send additional forces.” 

“That is an option I would save for if we have no more than 30 by tomorrow evening.” 

“As you please, commander.” 

“Fine. And, Donald?” 

“What?” 

“Is it possible you make some Abominations? I may need them.” 

“In the time we have left... maybe 2, if we are lucky. A slim chance for 3, but nothing more than that.” 

“Good. Write down what you need and make them. They may come in handy.” 

“Sure.” 

He bows and writes some things down, then leaves.  
Still worrying, she looks out of the window where the sun is gradually setting.  
Just as it reaches the horizon, she hears some loud voices in the base village below. They seem happy, greeting someone. Quickly, she rushes out of her room into the main square. As she arrives, she sees Adric Bonefever, smiling at her, accompanied by a mixed soldier unit of about 20 Forsaken and 5 Abominations, smiling at her and handing her a reply sealed by Sylvanas. 

“Sorry for the wait, commander.”, he grins, “Our Dark Lady seems very intent in sending some support to get your plan working!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update...  
> Stress got me, my plot bunny took off for a day and...  
> I finally started watching Orange Is The New Black and somehow got addicted to it... (will definitely write something for this one day.)  
> But, as I wish to cheer you all up with my work, I sat down, wrote and everything came back. Have fun!

She takes the letter, barely able to hide her great joy behind only a pleasant smile, puts it into her pocket and nods. 

“You did a great job, Adric. Thank you.” 

She turns to the soldiers he brought with him. 

“Thank you all for coming. Have you got one who can speak for all of you?” 

Two Forsaken step ahead, a Death Knight on a horse and a Warlock. 

“We speak for our parts.”, the Warlock says.   
“My name is Agnes Mitch. I talk in the name of 15 of us, those fine soldiers on the ground. We call ourselves the Moribund. The Lich King's plague has sentenced us to die soon. A few weeks ago, we came to Sylvanas, wishing for her to give us tasks so we could do so in honour instead of losing our minds and rotting away. And now, she gave us a chance to have a meaningful death.” 

“Are there more of you?” 

“There were. Not many survived this long, I'm afraid. When Arthas struck Lordaeron back then, some of us were more affected by his Plague and thus, bound to die despite undeath. We came together in a group and gave us our name, claiming we would be the ones to go first in risky battles, and those who could be sacrificed if deemed necessary. We have helped a few times already... and sadly, some of us died due to their infection... we are all who remain, and we wish to fight this last battle for everyone can feel we have not much time left. Thank you, commander ______, for giving us this chance. Our forces shall be yours to sacrifice.” 

She kneels, and the rest of the Moribund follow.  
She nods. 

“I accept your vow and thank you. You will be remembered, all of you. I cannot imagine a thing more honourable to do. The Moribund will be welcome.” 

After that, she turns to the Death Knight. 

“I assume you speak for the riders?” 

“Indeed I do. I am Delmor Tombglare. The 5 mounted warriors and Death Knights followed me, and are yours to use for the assault on the Alliance base. The Abominations, by the way... you can use them the way you like it. They are... expendable, the queen said. We are glad to serve you, commander.” 

She acknowledges his vow by lowering her head. 

“Thank you for being here.”

After that, she looks into the eyes of the new forces. 

“Moribund. You report to either Lieutenant Lostbiter, if you prefer close combat, or to Lieutenant Alvingham if range is more to your liking... and should it be you are one to hide in the shadows and spy, go to Lieutenant Shadowflesh. The mounted soldiers report to Major Darkbrook. They will give you your training schedules and anything you may need. The Abominations will go to the Apothecaries.” 

With nods, her commands are accepted and everyone moves to execute them.   
In the meanwhile, she heads up to her room and takes the letter from her pocket, placing it on her desk and sitting in front. Anxiety takes her as she debates whether to open it now or later. Then, she tsks and breaks the seal. What was she, not even able to open a letter by her queen.

_I am pleased you took over command in a swift way. The prior commander will be punished for failing me upon your return, if you do not come up with an idea yourself. But something tells me you will, considering the way you wrote your letter. A clever move indeed... up to now, I do not regret to have put you in charge there. Don't make me change my opinion on that._

She chuckles lightly, and a smile appears on her face. “I will not, I hope.”

_The additional troops I sent for your support shall ensure you are able to get your plan working quickly. I want a swift victory, and one working in a way the Alliance will still remember their defeat in decades. Make them suffer for trying to get our town back after we managed to take it first. Teach them what will come if you mess with the Forsaken._   
_I have the plague prepared for you and will send it with bats over the next days, packed in a way no one will be able to see it._   
_Should the Alliance get word of your plan, I will personally come to deal with your incapability to keep something a secret. And be assured, if my arrival is necessary, your punishment will be so bad Koltira's will seem like hours of cuddling against it.  
I hope for your sake that you hand me Andorhal in less than two weeks. Should you do, I already consider how to reward you._

“Oh, I could imagine quite a few ways to reward me, my queen...”

She mutters under her breath, a blush creeping up her cheeks and her mind wandering a bit.

_Should our victory be late, it may become less enjoyable for you. Even if it will be recognisable if you manage to secure the town once and for all, considering the fools being in command before you, my patience with the battle in this region is gradually fading away. Do not disappoint me, ______. The Dark Lady watches over you._   
_Sylvanas Windrunner,_   
_Banshee Queen of Lordaeron and Dark Lady of the Forsaken_

A smile is still playing on her features, a dark shade covering her cheeks. She puts the letter aside and writes a reply. This one will be sent via bird. It is simply not as important as the first one anymore, though she may hint at the convoy again should the birds be shot. 

_My queen,_   
_I admit I was a bit worried when Bonefever didn't come back when he said he would. I am glad not the Alliance was slowing him in his way, but your support. Speaking of which, I cannot tell how thankful I am for that. Without the Moribund, we would still only be at 18 to guard the convoy, and now... we have already more than half of the amount I expected to need. And the Abominations shall prove their part as well. I ordered the local Apothecaries to stitch some extra, and it may be they get to make two. More than enough. I will use three on the convoy to guard our victory, speaking metaphorically._   
_I expected to get the load sent in a week after my return here, from which 5 days remain by now. I hope I'll be able to hold the deadline in two weeks._

She pauses for a moment, just thinking whether to mention the queen's suggestion. Shrugging, she just does.

_The only reward I really want is the knowledge my queen is proud of me... though, to be completely honest, I wouldn't mind another at all. The mere idea of you planning in advance may or may not... get me to hope handing the town to you as soon as possible._   
_I hope to satisfy you, my queen._   
_Commander _______

Grinning, she seals the reply and walks down to the station they keep their messenger eagles. Undead creatures that were caught and trained in Andorhal and serving for ages now. She picks one and binds the paper to his leg. 

“Fly fast, and don't let anyone get you.”

It's just a whisper, and the creature takes off.  
She hears footsteps behind her. 

“____?” 

“Ariadne. Can I do anything for you?” 

“Why should you? Can I not see a friend?” 

“Of course you can. The night is calm, and our victory close. What have you planned for when we have won?”

“I think I will go back to the Undercity. Sure, I liked it here, but that is where my home is. And you?” 

“I'll go back as well. I've had enough of this town.” 

“And that is your only reason?” 

She laughs, knowing exactly what her friend is talking of. 

“Probably not.” She winks. “Come up to my room?” 

“Why not. Talking there is easier.” 

Up there, she takes a seat at her desk, while her friend takes a comfortable seat on the floor, crossing her legs. 

“What stood in the ominous letter she wrote back?” 

Her friend winks. 

“Well, I should not disappoint her or I shall be punished even more than Koltira. She gave me a deadline of two weeks. If I manage, I'll be rewarded.” 

“And considering your last meeting, I guess both of us know how that'll look like.” 

The Death Knight chuckles. 

“I hope so... quite much.” 

“Please don't get horny.” 

“That isn't really easy if the memories of her keep entering my mind.” 

“Gosh, she really had an effect on you. How long did you go without sex anyway?” 

“Since my death. A few months prior.” 

“Woah. Quite long, if you ask me.” 

“It simply wasn't on my mind. But now... like tasting a forbidden fruit. I want more.” 

“Geez, calm down.” 

“What is with you?” 

“Oh, I sometimes enjoy carnal pleasure if I feel like it.” 

She growls. 

“You know, ____, I could get you someone coming up here to...” 

“No. I'm keeping myself for Sylvanas.” 

“It is not like you two are in a relationship or exclusive. Heck, she could bang someone else right now!” 

The shocked look on the commander's face gives a slight evidence. 

“Oh dear, please tell me you only have that expression because you enjoyed the sex so much you want to be egoistic and keep it for yourself.” 

“I hope it is that way..” She chuckles. “It has been a long time and now she shows me how it can be, setting the standards fairly high. I will not be quite satisfied with someone else... I yearn for her touch, her body, her-” 

“OKAY I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY! SHHHH!” 

The Priest waves her hands in attempt to shield herself from the Blood Elf's words, who only laughs.

“Different topic. How are things in the infirmary? Are there new wounded?” 

“Some of the one's who were out got minor injuries, but nothing we couldn't fix.” 

“I see. Any things you still need?” 

“Not really, we're quite fine.” 

“I guess I'm happy to hear that.” 

Her friend raises an eyebrow and chuckles. 

“You aren't. You still hope that some people still come with injuries that are hopeless. You're afraid the troops you have won't be enough.” 

The Death Knight sighs. 

“Suppose you know me quite well.” 

“Hey, I'm sure you won't fail Sylvanas. Not when you have... quite the motivation.” 

She laughs. 

“Well, yes.” 

“See? Now excuse me. I'll have to leave.” 

“Oh, sure. I'll come with you, guess I'll lead a patrol myself for now...” 

On her way through the base, she is confronted with suspicious and mistrustful, even some disgusted looks. Whispers sound behind her back, low, aggressive voices full of despise and horror. Are they talking about her? As she looks at some of them with a questioning gaze, they turn away, only giving her one last, insulting glare. So they are talking about her... are they disliking her job or how she handles things? Shaking her head, she walks over to the one she assigned to be the leader of the patrol, coming to a stop behind him.

“You are about to leave?”

She asks him. He spins around, eyes widened in surprise. 

“Yes... commander.” 

She raises an eyebrow at his behaviour. 

“What is the matter?” 

Her voice is a hint sharper than usual. 

“Nothing.”

He speaks plainly, but the look in his eyes tells else. 

“Sure. I will take part in your patrol.” 

“But-” 

A glare silences him. 

“As you wish...” 

They mount the horses, and so, get out of the camp and into the woods. She feels their eyes on them, giving the same looks as yesterday and earlier, and she decides to investigate what is going on.  
The night slowly fades into day as they return, not having seen anything uncommon, but still gathering a few herbs they found in their way. She dismisses the soldiers that came with her, all undead beings who could see in the darkness, and heads back to her quarters. Just on her way, something in the sky awakens her attention. A bat moves closer, looking like a rider is bent over it. She holds to watch as it touches down slowly, landing at the local bat handler, and walks over to welcome whoever was atop of it. But the lump doesn't move. As Rhonda Molver tries to talk to it, no response comes. ____ gets an idea what it could be. Approaching, she sees the thin ropes holding it to the bat. 

“Don't try talk.”, she mutters to the bat handler, “It is not alive, but a delivery.” 

Untying the fastenings, she moves the cape away and finds various Plague canisters, and a smile creeps onto her lips.

“Thank you, my queen.”

She whispers and takes one of them in her hands. 

“DONALD!”

Mere moments after her call, she sees the Apothecary hurrying towards her. 

“Commander? Wait... is that the Plague?!” 

“It is. Our plan will work.” 

He grins wickedly. 

“Indeed it will. I'll tell the others, we'll take care of it... and every other bat that will arrive.”

“Very good. Come to the command room in two hours. I wish to talk to the leaders.” 

“As you wish.” 

He bows and scurries away. Indeed useful they were, this Apothecaries...  
She prepares a few things for the meeting later, and then waits and thinks about the rumour that seems to go around. What was it that her soldiers do not accept, or why? Maybe they disregard her plan? The sacrifice that will have to be made? Something else? Sighing, she places her elbow on the table and her head on her hand, and thinks further, doubting herself. Is she even a capable leader? Was she doing her job well? Had Sylvanas made a mistake? Would she make a fool out of herself? What was it they're all talking about?

“____? Can I come in?” 

“Ariadne... sure.”

Her friend moves herself through the doorway, and upon seeing her, she furrows her brows. 

“What is up?” 

“It appears there are some rumours about me and I cannot figure them out... is there something I did wrong?” 

“Shall I try getting to hear them?” 

“You would do that?” 

“Of course I will. And by the way, you're ten times the commander Bonewrencher was. Really.” 

“Thank you... for both.” 

Her friend smiles and hugs her. After a moment of surprise, she hugs back. 

“Okay then. You wanna know why I'm really here?” 

She gestures for Ariadne to continue. 

“I was just passing the birds... when one flew in... with a letter addressed to you, by-” 

“Sylvanas?”

The Death Knight's voice sounds hopeful, and the other chuckles and nods, handing her a roll of paper sealed with midnight blue wax.   
Just as she wants to break it, a knock sounds on the door and Major Darkbrook enters. 

“What is that Priest doing here?”

She asks, voice a bit cold. 

“She has brought a letter to me and took a task.” 

The Major nods and takes her stand at the table, while ____ gestures for her friend to leave, who takes the hint and excuses herself, almost walking into Major Leafspell, who only smiles at her and makes way. She thanks him and vanishes through the door. A few minutes are spent in silence while the missing leaders come in. When all are there, the commander rises from her seat. 

“Glad you all made it. I suppose you know about our first Plague delivery today?” 

Nods come in reply, and she bows her head and continues. 

“I suppose we will get the full amount during the next days. You will get more information when I have it. Until then, I hope your preparations for the plan go well?” 

She gestures for Lostbiter to start, and everyone gives their force's report, which are all pleasant to hear. 

“Donald? How are the numbers for the convoy's guards?” 

“We're at 36. Got 21 volunteers from our forces plus the 15 Moribund.” 

“Good. The Abominations...?” 

“First one is almost done. A second is sure, but not a third.” 

“Fine. We need some more soldiers, I'm afraid... But I am sure we will find them.” 

“Indeed, commander...”

“Did the patrols report anything unusual?” 

“No. The Alliance base is pretty calm, but I've sent some additional Rogues to go investigate. I do not think they wish to attack soon.” 

“Would it be possible to hint at our enemies the convoy is very important?” 

Lieutenant Shadowflesh laughs darkly. 

“Sure thing. I will tell my two most trusted ones to have a conversation within reach of the Alliance's spies, but one where it will seem like it is not wanted there.” 

“Good to hear. Do that. For the next days, I expect you all to come to the command room at sunset for us to talk about this day's progress. If everything goes on well, we might execute the plan in two days.” 

“Yes, commander!”

Her leaders reply, bow and leave.  
Sighing, she heads to her room and takes the letter, finally opening it.

_I thought the Moribund may be helpful in your plan, since they will be either mindless zombies or dead bodies in no more than a month and they know that. Sending them to Andorhal was the most plausible option for them to be useful at the end... and assurance for me you will not waste any good forces. I expect you want 50 to guard the convoy, then? I suppose you will have to deal with less. Do not use any soldiers that'd be better in other tasks._   
_But I think you're intelligent enough to do that. Use the Abominations as you like, they're made easily._   
_I am glad you expect to hold the deadline, and the sooner I get Andorhal, the sooner you may or may not get a reward that suits your achievements... and may get some of the needs fulfilled a queen may have nowadays. Give your all, commander ______._   
_For your sake, I, as you do, hope you will satisfy me._   
_Sylvanas Windrunner,_   
_Banshee Queen of Lordaeron and Dark Lady of the Forsaken_

With a slight blush covering her cheeks, the Death Knight feels a slight desire reading those promising sentences over and over again. She again swears to herself she will not disappoint her queen. Never. She presses the letter to her chest.

“Soon, I will come back. Promise.” 

Then, she takes her own paper, ink and feather, beginning to write her reply.

_My queen,_   
_To start it all with good news, the preparations are going so well I might be able to send the convoy in two days. The Moribund prove an excellent addition to the forces, and I am glad to tell your first delivery got here without any particular difficulties. We're at 36 in the moment, yet I expect to get some more. And indeed, 50 was what I hoped for. I will not force anyone, and I will not risk the lives of any good soldier._   
_The local Apothecaries have almost finished the first Abomination and expect to finish the second soon. A third won't be possible for them, yet I think what we have will be sufficient._   
_I yearn for the day I will see the gates of the Undercity again... and you. You left quite the memory for me to think about, and quite the desire to fulfil your wishes as much as I can. I wish to return as soon as possible, and thus, I will not disappoint you, my lady._   
_Commander _______

Sealing the letter, she takes it to the birds, picking one and sending it towards the place she desires to be. She looks after it until the creature gets invisible in the night sky, disappearing in the mist over the town. Sighing, she turns away, strolling through the town, stopping where she can look over the town this whole battle is about. No more than ruins. Burning, smoking. Utterly destroyed from a war that rages on for a small eternity. She can see the lights of the Alliance's base across it, a faint shimmer in a dull place.

“Doesn't look that good anymore, eh?”

A voice asks behind her. 

“Adric Bonefever. Sure unexpected.” 

“Shall I leave again?” 

“No, it's fine.” 

“We are really battling over some ruins, huh?” 

“Some pretty important ruins though.” 

He laughs. 

“Maybe. Lost too much to give up.” 

“Indeed we did.” 

“I lost my brother in battle.” 

“Here?” -

Aye. Best family I could've ever wished for. We were born here, in this town. We were family. Never needed any friends, we had us. We became soldiers together, I a Warrior, he got a Rogue. Best team. I kept them busy, he got them from behind. We died together and remained bound even in death. Arthas raised us, Sylvanas freed us. We kept having each other's backs... until he fell here. Some Alliance jerk got him... I swore to help get this town, our home town, back for him... accepting my vow were his last words.”

He shrugs. 

“And now, we finally have the plan that'll get this place into our hands forever.” 

“You believe in the plan?” 

“Best one I heard in a while. Even if they don't show it, most of the soldiers here really respect your courage and intelligence. You are far a better commander than Bonewrencher ever was. Your plan is really good.” 

“Most soldiers seem to disregard me.” 

“Yeah... there is some rumour about you. Honestly, I would tell you if I was interested in such things... but I am not. Sorry. Anyway, your person and plan is different, in some way. Most will listen to you, no matter what they say.”

“Thank you, really. I appreciate the words coming from such a great Warrior.” 

“Now, it is my turn to thank you. You are a very capable commander and your plan is ingenious. And I will help make it work.” 

“You will?” 

“With my life. My brother has died and I have nothing else worth living for. Hereby, I plead your allowance to join the convoy's troops.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also. If anyone has an idea for another title this fic could have, be sure to tell me!


	3. Chapter 3

“Adric... I do not think I can sacrifice such a great Warrior...” 

“Please. I want to have this city for the Forsaken, once and for all. And... I have nothing left to return to.” 

“I'm not sure whether Sylvanas would approve of, as she'd say, wasting your potential.” 

“In the end, it is my choice. I wish to die for so long, yet I want Andorhal. This is the best way to get both. Besides, Sylvanas will not have to know.” 

She sighs. 

“Fine. But... as you are one of my most trusted soldiers since we have been comrades for a long time and have a fine sense of orders... you'll be in charge of the convoy's guard, Captain Bonefever.” 

“I- I don't know what to say. Thank you.” 

“Sure. I expect you to come to the meetings of the leaders, as I will split forces soon to focus.” 

“Alright. I will not disappoint you, commander.” 

She nods, and he salutes and turns away.  
She, with a slightly sad yet relieved smile on her face, turns towards her quarters and walks there, deciding to take a rest again tonight. Tomorrow would be tough, after all, if she really wanted to set the attack for the day after. She lets herself fall down onto the bed, closing her eyes. But sleep does not find her too soon. What if her plan wouldn't work? What if the soldiers disregarded her for whatever rumour was spreading around? What if the Alliance had found out? She takes a deep breath and rolls onto her back, but stands up after a mere minute, sitting down at her desk and writing some reports, orders and lists. She works until early in the morning, when a knock sounds on her door.

“Come in!”

She calls out, and Ariadne enters. 

“I have found out what they say.” 

Her ears twitch once, interest rising. 

“And?” 

“Well... they say... you only are commander here since you... slept your way up. Sylvanas only put you in charge only because you had sex with her.” 

“This is ridiculous.” 

“But most seem to believe it. Guess the wrong eyes saw the bite marks on your neck.” 

She nods. 

“I will take care of this right away.” 

She storms out of the room, heading for the village's centre and walking up the podium set up there. 

“I ORDER EVERYONE TO COME HERE!”

She yells, her voice painted with death and an icy tone resonating across the base. She's lucky the patrols have not left yet and thus are able to come as well. A few minutes later, every part of her forces is assembled. She lets her gaze wander over the crowd, the same ice in her eyes, and notices some looking more or less uncomfortable, and some wondering looks.

“I heard of certain rumours concerning me going around.”

She pauses, glaring at some of the people below her. 

“Some of you may think I only got this position I hold due to... having sex with Sylvanas. Firstly, I have no idea how you got the imagination that I did something along these lines when I was in the Undercity a few days ago. Certainly interesting what people can come up with when they're alone... and possibly jealous.” 

A smirk plays on her features, and it is not a nice one. 

“Secondly. What I did in our home, was talking to our queen about my plan. She seemed interested to try it out, and since the prior commander did not take a second to listen to my idea, and besides, she told me she was displeased with his continuous failings anyway, she put me in charge.” 

She pauses, seeing realisation hit her force's faces. 

“And this is how I became commander. Not else. And whatever I have done in the Undercity apart from that, is my business alone.” 

The major part of the crowd nods, seemingly ashamed a little. 

“I am not done yet. I do not wish for such to ever happen again, and I will not let this try to get my reputation ruined go unnoticed. I want you all to tell me who it was you heard that rumour from. If I find anyone lying to me... they will get punished, and be sure it won't be nice. If you answer honestly and I get whoever started this rumour today, I will reward you all. Go and decide. No one will get punished apart from the ones responsible, I can assure you. Report to Lieutenant Shadowflesh.”

With that, she leaves the podium, leaving a slightly confused crowd behind and nods towards her Spy Leader, who salutes to fulfil his new task and takes a few Rogues to help him find the one starting the rumour.  
During the day, a good amount of bats from the Undercity arrive, packed with the Plague like the first one. She inspects all of the loads, observes the convoy carts that are already done and look very effective as they are a bit fragile on the top yet solid on the wheels they'll move on, with thin covers on the top that will fly aside, but only up after a certain amount of pressure to ensure most of the explosion will go to the sides, enlarging the area the explosion will work in. She thanks the builders for their good work, and when they salute, she leaves to check the troops. The forces have already split into the two teams they'll be operating in, the convoy's guards and those for the main attack. Everything seems to be good there, as well. They train hard, but also take rests when they need them. She sees the wounded Orc Warrior and walks over to him.

“Commander. An honour to meet you.”

His voice sounds empty, bare of any emotion. 

“An honour for me such a Warrior sacrifices his life for my plan.” 

“The Warchief would not approve of it. Just wanted to say that.” 

“The Warchief... Garrosh will not have to hear of this.” 

“He is a good Warrior, but unable to see the strength in anything else but... strength. Your Plague certainly is powerful. Yet I... I do not like the idea of this weapon.” 

“It has to be done this way to end the battle here. There is no faster way.” 

“I'm afraid so. At least, this gives me the chance to die in battle rather than from that damn Rogue's poison. I'll avenge it tenfold.” 

“You will.” 

“And still, I dislike the Plague. But I am not certain about Garrosh being the right choice as well. Thrall... he would have disliked it as well, I am sure. But I guess he'd be more accepting in the end. Sylvanas does things in her own way.”

“Indeed yes. She is... a special leader.” 

“And the Forsaken are a special race. You lack empathy and compassion.” 

“Yes. But we're dead... I guess it is no big surprise our positive feelings are not as strong.” 

“Seems plausible. I sure hope for your sake Hellscream won't hear about this.” 

“He was never interested in Andorhal that much. No Orc ever was seen here to investigate after our first victory... you are the only one I have seen here since then.” 

“Yes. Most here are Forsaken. Some Blood Elves. And of the Death Knights, some other races as well. But... those are dead.” 

She nods. 

“Thank you for your support.” 

“I am merely serving the Horde as I can.” 

She bows her head, and he salutes.   
After that, she gets up and checks the Apothecaries, who just work fiercely on the second, almost complete Abomination, and after that, on the Healers who give their all to make everyone fit for the battle. Seems like tomorrow will be a good choice to start the attack. A smile displays on her face, and she then sees a messenger bird flying towards the station, but as it sees her, it croaks and dives down, landing on her outstretched arm. Midnight blue wax. Sylvanas. She takes the scroll, and the bird flies away to it's rest as she strides back to her room. Arriving there, she breaks the seal and reads, a smile on her face.

_Tomorrow is your expected date, then? I will be glad if you manage to set things up that fast. Seems you're even more capable than I thought. The last delivery bat should have arrived a few hours ago, so you have what I could send. If you really have all the forces and things you need, I can expect you to be back in three, maybe four days, I hope. If the guards for the convoy aren't straight at 50, it will not be that bad. Less of a loss for us._   
_Make our victory swift, commander. I want you to focus on that first, not anything else. This will be my last letter until you come back here. And if you are, we can focus on fulfilling my wishes, as you said it. Do not disappoint me. The Dark Lady watches over you._   
_Be sure to write when you have won the battle once and for all._   
_Sylvanas Windrunner,_   
_Banshee Queen of Lordaeron and Dark Lady of the Forsaken_

For a moment, she debates with herself whether to write a reply or not. But shrugging, it would be at least worth to inform her that tomorrow would indeed be the date for the attack. Taking a feather and some paper, she begins writing. 

_My queen,_   
_I am very pleased to tell you tomorrow will indeed be the day of our final victory. I expect everything to work. The deliveries are all here and safe to secure our convoy. I hope to be back soon._   
_I_

A knock on the door interrupts her, and without waiting for the answer, Ariadne storms in. 

“Commander. We have found the ones who started the rumours... you will not be pleased.” 

She nods and gets up, following her friend outside and over to the cells, in which... 5 Forsaken, and... Faolan Lostbiter, her own ground troops Lieutenant, are locked in. Shocked, she looks at him, not having expected such things from one of her second-in-commands. 

“They were responsible.”, Ariadne says, “And still it does not seem right. Lieutenant Lostbiter never had something that big against you he'd cooperate. Besides, rumours don't really seem like something a Lieutenant would use. I suspect another one behind this all, yet we have not found one.” 

“Take him for interrogation.”

She replies with an icy voice, and some Deathguards take Lostbiter with her to a room in the local Inn to be asked some questions. He is chained to a chair and she stands before him. 

“If you answer honestly, I might spare you the punishment Sylvanas could use on you.”

Her whisper is dangerously low, albeit already knowing what she will do to all of those traitors, regardless of his answer now. 

“Were you the mind behind that idea?” 

“I was.” 

“Something tells me I cannot believe you. Why did you start it, then?” 

“Your plan sacrifices too many of my good soldiers. I wanted them to hate you for what you do to them.” 

“Wouldn't a Lieutenant just tell me if he dislikes that idea? And am I not using only those who volunteer for that task? Isn't it their own choice?” 

Lostbiter keeps silent, biting on his lower lip. 

“I say it again, tell me who the real mind behind that was.” 

“I won't say a word, bitch!”,

He almost yells, and she backhands him with her gauntleted hand, his head flying to the side.

“Now that I know you indeed are not the one who started it, I will not let you go until I have the culprit. The sooner you tell me, the lesser you will suffer. And believe me...”

Her voice gets so cold and low she can almost see shivers of fear run down his spine.

“I know how to make you tell me everything behind sobs of pain since you are too weak to scream. How to make the pain of being raised as an undead seem like hours of cuddling against what I might do to you. How to make you suffer, how to ensure you cannot scream. Do you want that? Or would you prefer just telling me and maybe getting a punishment that is easier to endure than that of the others?” 

He is shaking, looking at her with eyes filled with fear. 

“I will not tell you a word, bitch. I do not listen to your orders.”

Suddenly, she becomes very much aware of the fact he just indirectly told her. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant, for cooperating and telling me who is the culprit.” 

She smiles at him, and as she watches his face fall, she knows her guess was right. 

“GUARDS!”

She yells, and three of them soon stand in the room. 

“Take this scum back to where he was chained. And tell all of your people to search for Adrean Bonewrencher. I have some words to exchange with our prior commander.” 

As they leave, she smirks in a dangerous way. She only has to wait now.   
She again checks on all the things needed for the attack tomorrow, and still, everything seems alright to her. Moving up to her room, she lies on the bed. She'll have to think of a speech to hold in the evening, and she definitely will need to talk to her leaders again. And first, she will need a new one to order the ground troops... but does she really? For the attack tomorrow, she would need the one leading the convoy, which she has found in Adric. Then, the healers would of course be lead by their Mayor. And he main assault group shall have her in command. And in the second places, Darkbrook and Alvingham. But there is indeed someone missing to lead the ground forces. Clicking her tongue, she curses at Lieutenant Lostbiter for committing treason against her. She looks at the lists of the Captains he had under his command, and reads some reports regarding them. What would Sylvanas do? She would name a new one to lead... but who? She would've chosen the one who seemed fit to this job for one time.   
Sighing, she decides to ask Alvingham, Darkbrook, Shadowflesh and Leafspell for their advice, sending Deathguards to go get them. Soon, all of them are in her room, looking at her with curious eyes. 

“Commander? Why are we here and not in the command room?”

Major Darkbrook asks. 

“Because this is not an official meeting.” 

“And why did you call us here?” 

“Lieutenant Lostbiter... is a traitor. I need a new leader to order the ground forces tomorrow, and I do not know that much who might be a good choice. Have any of you got an idea?” 

“He is a traitor?” 

Shadowflesh seems like he cannot believe it. 

“He helped start the rumour.” 

Shock takes over the features of her leaders, and they seem aghast to know that. 

“I am sorry for you.”

Alvingham mutters, and the others nod. 

“I would recommend putting Mortimer Kelsey in charge. He is loyal and strong, and the other soldiers like him.”

The first suggestion comes from Leafspell.

“But he is no Captain already, so he has no experience in ordering around.” 

“True.” 

The commander sighs. 

“Please only recommend those who have experience. I need one for this attack only. Choosing the one to really follow Lostbiter is something that's up to Sylvanas.” 

“No, it is up to you. You're her commander here and you choose the ones to carry out your orders to the forces. It is your choice.”, Shadowflesh says softly. “It is alright if you don't have that much of an idea. We're here to help.” 

She smiles. 

“Thank you. Then let's decide on one.”

About half an hour and some discussions later, she chose Javier Reeves to command the ground troops. 

“Thank you. I expect you all to come to the command room at sunset. We will have to talk about how exactly it all will be done tomorrow.” 

Her second-in-commands nod and salute, then leave. 

“I'll send Reeves to you, commander.”

Alvingham says as she departs. 

“Yes, thank you!”

She replies with a small smile and then waits for the Forsaken to come. She sits at her desk and takes a map, already planning a bit in advance, until a knock sounds on her door. 

“Come in!”

A young-looking Forsaken enters, he seems a little shy and scared. 

“C-commander? You wanted to see me?” 

“I suspect you are Captain Javier Reeves?”

“I am.”

His voice sounds a little more proud upon saying that. 

“Good. As you may know, Lieutenant Lostbiter is not in charge anymore.” 

“I... I heard of that.” 

“I needed a new one to order the ground forces tomorrow. And with the help of my leaders... we chose you.” 

“What? I... I only am... I... It's the greatest honour for me.”

H stutters, all while kneeling down. 

“How old are you?” 

“Died when I was 18. That's some years ago... I don't really know. Maybe 30 or so.” 

“Good, good. Javier Reeves, do you swear to follow orders by your superiors and give those to your subordinates?” 

“I do.” 

“Do you swear to serve the Forsaken and their queen in your every move?” 

“I swear.” 

“And do you swear never to betray them or the Horde?” 

“I swear.” 

“Then rise as temporary Lieutenant Reeves of the ground forces of Andorhal. If you prove your worth tomorrow, you will be in command permanently.” 

“Yes, commander.” 

He rises and bows again. 

“I will not disappoint you.” 

“I hope so. Come to the command room at sunset. We'll discuss tomorrow's plan in detail there. If you have questions up to now, go ask one of the other leaders.” 

“I will. See you then.” 

He salutes and leaves, and with a smile, she looks after him. The Forsaken seems capable of his job. She looks over to her desk and sees the somehow forgotten letter on top of it. Just as she wants to go on writing, another knock sounds on her door. 

“Yes?”

A Deathguard enters. 

“Commander... we found Bonewrencher. All of the ones responsible for that rumour are caught.” 

“Then I will come. I have to tell them their punishment.”

She follows the Forsaken to the cages, in which the culprits are locked in. 

“Aaah. Bonewrencher. Seems like your little idea of ruining my reputation wasn't that successful.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Oh I will not. Tell me, what even gave you the idea to tell those things?” 

“Your little friend almost yelled them. I overheard her calling... you slept with the Banshee Queen.” 

“So you spied on me as well. As I said, whatever I may or may not have done with her is private business.” 

“So you don't deny it.” 

“I'm not admitting it either. However, you tried to tell lies about me, spread rumours... to ruin what my forces think of me and to ruin our victory. For that, all of you... will be able to help me tomorrow to make things up for me. A convoy will look much better with a few prisoners accompanying it. You all will take part there tomorrow.” 

“You cannot do that!” 

“I can. You will at least prove you are useful once. Or more, twice, as you were the one sending me to Sylvanas.”

“You little...” 

“Don't worry, Bonewrencher. Your names will be on the far bottom of the memorial too.” 

With that, she smiles and turns away, ignoring the cries of the ones she just sentenced to death.   
She talks to the Deathguards once to chain them to the convoy tomorrow, and then, judging the stand of the sun, walks to her command room to meet the leaders, who are all there already.  
“Commander. What took you?” 

“I sentenced the culprits for the rumour to accompany the convoy tomorrow.” 

“Oh...”

She nods.

“Now come, let's talk about the plan for tomorrow. Lieutenant Shadowflesh, has the Alliance got the hint?” 

“They have. And my spies tell me they plan to attack it. With quite a lot of their forces.” 

“Oh, that is music to my ears.” 

She bends over the table and takes out the map she prepared earlier, with a few arrows drawn onto it. 

“To talk about the convoy first. Captain Bonefever. Tombglare. You two will be in charge there. You'll take the route across Dalson's Farm and the Felstone field, and then towards the Undercity, but try to stay away from the Alliance's base as much as possible. I don't want some of our forces get caught in the explosion. When you have a good amount around the convoy... blow it up. Everyone of your soldiers will get some Plague attached to themselves, which will blow up when the signal comes. The explosions are linked and will blow up over the time of 30 seconds. The major part of the Alliance's forces will die or be horribly weakened.” 

“Yes, commander.” 

She nods and turns to her other leaders. 

“We will position some spies at the Alliance's base, and when we see that their forces have left, give 15 minutes to start the main assault. Shadowflesh, you are responsible for that. Their troops that left for the convoy won't be able to hear the screams of the wounded that much then. We will attack from the village mainly, but two groups will take the sides. I will lead the main charge, Alvingham and Reeves the other two. The healers will follow closely, guarded by some other forces – again, Shadowflesh, that's your charge – to heal our wounded. The main thing we'll need is speed. I want this over swiftly and deadly. Understood?” 

“Yes, commander.” 

“Pleased to hear.”

A few detailed discussions are made, what to focus on while taking the Alliance's base, when exactly to blow up the convoy and what if a good part of the Alliance's forces at it may survive. They come up with a plan B for every aspect, until it is absolutely sure victory will be theirs. With a smile, she dismisses her leaders, telling them to assemble all soldiers on the main square of the village and to secure no spy may be present. She herself goes there, stepping up the podium and waiting until everyone is there and a nod comes from Lieutenant Shadowflesh, telling the place is secure. Just then, she raises her voice for one last speech to all of them.

“Soldiers of Andorhal! We have fought for ages to finally get our control over here once and for all!” 

A murmur rises in the crowd, agreeing with what she just said. 

“And I am pleased to tell you tomorrow will be that day!” 

They cheer and roar to her words. 

“We have planned for days, built everything up and now it is done! We will win tomorrow's battle! We shall finally show the Alliance who is in charge here! That no one messes with the Forsaken! With the Horde! With us! WE WILL BE VICTORIOUS! THIS TOWN SHALL BE OURS FINALLY, ONCE AND FOR ALL!” 

They roar in response, hoping to end this battle soon. And yet, she is not done.

“WE BOW IN PRIDE AND ADMIRATION TO THE ONES WHO WILL SACRIFICE THEIR LIVES FOR OUR CAUSE! THE MORIBUND'S FINAL BATTLE! THE LAST BATTLE FOR OUR OWN SOLDIERS SENTENCED TO DEATH BY THEIR WOUNDS! THE BATTLE THAT WILL END THIS!” 

All cheer for the ones guarding the convoy tomorrow, who bow their heads in response. 

“WE ARE GOING TO DO THIS TOGETHER! TOMORROW IS THE DAY IT WILL END! TOMORROW IS THE DAY OF OUR VICTORY! TOMORROW IS THE DAY THE ALLIANCE WILL REMEMBER IN DECADES! NO ONE MESSES WITH US! ANDORHAL BELONGS TO US – LET'S SHOW THEM! FOR THE FORSAKEN! FOR SYLVANAS! FOR THE HORDE!” 

She ends her speech, and roars signal her she has got her forces on her side. A smile plays on her features. 

_Don't worry, Sylvanas. I'll be back soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I am so sorry the battle wasn't in this chapter. I hadn't expected for the other part to get that long. Sorry. But I can assure the battle will be in the next one. Promise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waking up very early and not being able to sleep again sure has its perks.  
> Being me writing on. Have fun with the new chapter. I plan to update soon again.

After the crowd has stopped their cheer, she steps down from the podium and walks into her room again, remembering the forgotten letter on her desk. She reads it again, thinking about what it was she had wanted to continue it with, trying to remember despite the stress of that day.

_My queen,_   
_I am very pleased to tell you tomorrow will indeed be the day of our final victory. I expect everything to work. The deliveries are all here and safe to secure our convoy. I hope to be back soon._   
_I_

Yes... what was it she had wanted to write about... she just decides to report.

_have checked on everything and it seems just fit. The previous commander and some of his subordinates tried to spread a rumour to ruin my reputation, but we caught them. I was sad to know one of my second-in-commands belonged to them... Lieutenant Faolan Lostbiter. I replaced him by Javier Reeves, who seems capable of managing the attack tomorrow. If he does, I would like to make him Lieutenant permanently._   
_I decided to turn the punishment for Bonefever and his followers in a way that they'd at least be useful in the end... apart from the time he sent me to you. We are at 43 people guarding the convoy now, thanks to them. Add the 3 Abominations and I guess we'll be just fine. The plan is spoken through in detail, and we have alternate plans if any step does not work._   
_The carts are built well and will do their best to spread the explosion to the side rather than upwards. Every convoy guard has some Plague attached to them to ensure most of the Alliance forces there will die. The explosions are set within half a minute, linked to each other._   
_The main attack will be lead by me. I go for the frontal assault, and Lieutenant Alvingham and Lieutenant Reeves for the sides. Lieutenant Shadowflesh will guard Mayor Leafspell and his healing forces. We are aiming for their commanders and main buildings first, but will use not much Plague. I do not want to risk any more lives... being I have to sacrifice quite a few already. Swiftness is the most important thing. They shall not realise this all is planned until it's in fact too late._   
_I'm afraid I'll have to keep the bats you send, I'll need them later when we have won._   
_Guess we'll see in two days at the earliest, but I do hope so. And before you ask, I wrote this when I was through with everything requiring my presence. I will not ignore your order to focus on the battle first, but I wanted to write a reply giving the facts you may use to know how things are here._   
_Also...in the unlikely case I might die tomorrow, just know it was my utmost pleasure and greatest honour to have served you, my queen._   
_Victory for Sylvanas._   
_Commander ______._

She smiles. This letter contains everything she wants to say, and it's a good one. She gets up from her chair and seals it, then goes outside and hands the scroll to a messenger bird, who takes off in the dark sky. She looks after it with sorrow in her eyes.  
What if she would lead everyone to their demise tomorrow? If the plan did not work or any source had informed the Alliance? She sighs and holds her hand to her forehead. There are stars in the sky, only barely visible through the mist hanging over the town. She walks outside and climbs up a tree, gazing up into the glinting objects and smiling. It had been ages since she had looked up into them.   
She remembers that faithful day in Icecrown, when she took revenge on the one who killed her and raised her. That battle seemed hopeless, as well. Yet they had won, and Arthas was dead now, forever. Her smile makes way for a determined expression. She would win tomorrow as well. She had excellent soldiers that wanted to end this once and for all. She had a good plan. And something to live for, even if it was only a reward she'd get. She chuckles. Not any reward, yet. One by Sylvanas.  
Smiling again, she hops off the tree and walks back into town and into her chambers, firstly polishing her armour and weapon to look fierce and truly like a leader in the battle. After that, she allows herself to fall onto the bed and slumbering until morning, and albeit that is not long, she awakens with resolution in her mind. The day of victory had come.   
She takes out various articles of clothing, Sylvanas' chest bindings among them. With a gentle smile, she draws her hand over it. She takes a bath, noticing with a chuckle the marks her queen left are paled, but not gone. After that, she dresses herself, securing her armour was firmly in place. One look in the mirror tells her she looks like she wants to. A commander to fear.   
She heads down to the main square, where the preparations for the convoy and assault have already started. The forces for the attack are gradually getting in order, and those who will give their lives salute to her in unison, and she nods in their directions, helping where she can... for example, she personally chains the prisoners to the carts. 

“Have fun, Bonewrencher. Make yourself useful once again.” 

She grins and leaves him, he only sending her a hateful glare.   
She spots Adric and walks over to him. 

“Captain. Are you done?” 

“We are almost ready to leave. You look good, by the way.” 

“Thank you.” She smiles. “Has everyone got their little Plague box?” 

“They have. Also, we attached some fire bombs to the convoy that will blow up to burn away the remaining Plague in early afternoon, so that you can pass the site without danger. We'll leave in a few minutes.” 

“Adric... I am honoured I could fight alongside such a great Warrior in my life.” 

“I am as well. Continue to serve the Forsaken and our Dark Lady well.” 

She nods, smiling. 

“Just on a personal note...”, he makes sure no one is listening, “You had sex with her, eh?” 

Shocked about this question, her cheeks would have been aflame in life. 

“I trust you not to tell this to anyone, Bonefever.” 

He laughs. 

“I won't. But if I see my brother in afterlife, I'll have quite the story to share.” 

She chuckles. 

“Take your lead, Captain.” 

He salutes.  
With a bit of sorrow in her heart, she climbs up the podium in the square and prepares to give one last speech to those who will give their lives. 

“Thank you all. May you fight, and may you die in honour. I bow to your sacrifice and am deeply touched by it. Let's face it: You are the ones really responsible for our victory today. Because of you, this town will be ours! Thank you, soldiers of Andorhal! Thank you, Moribund! Go, and go with all of our hopes with you!”

The crowd cheers, and she herself kneels before the troops that will leave soon. With some signals, the carts start to move and leave. She looks after them and smiles. What wonderful soldiers she had.  
After that, she reminds she has to focus and helps ordering the troops on the ground, splitting the teams so that all three have a good amount of ground, distance and mounted forces among them, as well as some healers that are willing and able to be in combat as well. The one to guard the healers consists of more range fighters, but some others as well. At last, she mounts her horse and waits. He seems a little unsteady. 

“Shh, Nightmare. We'll be in battle soon.”

After a while, Lieutenant Shadowflesh steps out of the shadows. 

“A big part of the Alliance forces just left!”

He announces, and they cheer for a moment, until she silences them. 

“15 Minutes to go!”

The time passes agonisingly slow, and after 10, she gives the signal to hold. 

“Soldiers of Andorhal, the moment has come! We will soon go into the last battle! I am thankful, and I am greatly honoured to have fought among you. Let's do this together and not disappoint the ones already out there! Let's fight until the end! Let's finally show the Alliance that WE, and only WE, have the control over this town! FOR THE FORSAKEN! FOR SYLVANAS! FOR THE HORDE!”

She yells, and gives the signal to charge.  
Roaring, the soldiers start advancing across the ruins, splitting at the point they told to, and attack.   
She can only see the surprised faces of some humans when her weapon already beheads them. She can almost feel her blood running. This is what she was made for. Her horse provides a good advantage in moving through the Alliance's soldiers, lashing out here and now. 

“ANDORHAL IS OURS!”

She screams at some point, blood already on her armour and her horse, a slightly mad glint in her eyes. The battle rages on and on, and she can even see some Worgen among the enemies. As she gazes into the opposing forces, she can see a Human Mage mounting a sturdy horse, not seeming like the chargers of Stormwind at all. With shock, she sees that the enemy's commander is a Worgen when he changes shape into that wolf creature. 

“THERE!”

She yells, and points her weapon at him. 

“HE IS MY TARGET!”

She tells her forces, having to speak loudly due to the battle raging on around them. 

“HELP ME GET TO HIM! IF I KILL HIM, WE'LL HAVE AN ADVANTAGE!” 

“AYE!” 

The soldiers around her form a shim around her and advance towards the Worgen. 

“WHAT IS HIS NAME?”

Her question is answered by one of the Rogues yelling back. 

“GRAHAM OXWORTH!” 

Upon hearing his name, the Worgen turns his head towards her and snarls. 

“COME HERE ONE ON ONE, COMMANDER ______!”

He roars, and she is not surprised he knows her name. 

“SURE THING, COMMANDER OXWORTH!” 

She can see his ears twitch at the fact she used that honouring form of address. Their forces make a circle around them, watching closely who will win, even holding their battles.

“You're outnumbered.”

She talks calmly, matter-of-factly, and he growls. 

“I know, bitch. But I've already sent someone to get backup.” 

She laughs. 

“What are you laughing at?” 

“Say goodbye to this town, mutt. Andorhal is ours.” 

“Oh, I would not be so sure.” 

With that, they storm towards each other, a battle cry on their lips. 

“FOR SYLVANAS!”

“FOR GILNEAS!”

Their weapons clash, hers and his spellblade, and without judgement she sees he is stronger than her. Larger anyway. So she has to use her speed and intelligence. As he uses a fireball to throw at her, she dodges and answers with shackling his tongue for a moment so he can only use his blade. In that one, they clash again, she managing to harm his leg by kicking it, him falling down. As she jumps to plunge her weapon in his heart, he rolls over and pushes her aside, jumping back as soon as he did that. Due to the distance he has, he begins a larger spell, but did not consider one of her abilities. The Death Grip. He is drawn close to her, but before her sword can pierce him, he kicks her aside, and as she rolls over, gets atop her, preparing his claws to rip her open.   
But as he lashes out and she already thinks of Sylvanas to say goodbye, a low rumble is heard in the distance. The Worgen turns his head towards it, and his ears sink in shock. She uses that second to kick him off of her. He stares in the direction of the Felstone Field, where green mist is rising up. 

“RUTH!”

As he roars, fear enters his eyes.

“Your wife?”

She asks with a smirk as he sinks to his knees in grief. 

“Say goodbye to your backup. We had this planned all along.” 

His eyes turn to her, shock twisting into rage.

“YOU LITTLE WHORE!”

He roars, attacking in blind furore.   
She dodges him easily, kicking his shin again full force, making him fall. A Strangulate rises him in the air as she advances towards him. 

“And say goodbye to your life.”

She chuckles before swiftly plunging her weapon into his chest, letting him fall onto the ground. 

“Ru...th...”

She hears him whisper lastly, and with a sympathetic smile, separates his head from his body to have something to show Sylvanas. Then, she picks up the spellblade and puts it into her pocket. 

“Nice decoration for my wall.”

She mutters to herself and turns to the Alliance's forces that remain. 

“CAPITULATE! YOUR COMMANDER IS DEAD AND YOUR OTHER FORCES ANNIHILATED!” 

“WE WILL NOT GIVE UP TO YOUR DEAD QUEEN-BITCH! AND WE WILL NOT BOW TO YOU TO BE USED AS GUINEA PIGS FOR YOUR PLAGUE!”

Their answer comes in a yell and a start to charge. 

“CAPTURE SOME ALIVE! OUR APOTHECARIES MAY BE PLEASED!”

Her order comes swiftly, and the battle rages on, with her killing soldier after soldier, blood covering her armour and weapons soon. The remaining forces have no chance, and when one lets his weapons fall, they take him to be prisoner.  
It is more of a slaughter than a battle in the end, with the Forsaken's cold blood running in their veins. She has to go to the Healers once and places the commander's head there along with his spellblade, telling Mayor Leafspell to take care of her “souvenirs”, to which he chuckles with a slightly disgusted face. After she is healed up, she storms into battle again, but they almost do not need her anymore. The remaining forces are fighting with a wall in their backs, and soon, some range soldiers go behind it and climb up, firing on them from above. When only five are alive, she motions to stop the relentless attacks for a while.

“You have fought well. But now, you're defeated. Give up, and kneel before me, then I will spare your lives.”

She says softly, and two of them lower themselves to the ground, while the other three look at them in a shocked manner. 

“So be it.”, she continues, smiling. “Take those two, and kill the others.” 

With that, she plunges her weapon into one of them, and lets her soldiers do the rest.  
She walks over to the Healers and orders some of them to search for wounded soldiers, others to wait here in case someone would come to them. Then, she heads back into the Alliance's base, searching for supplies there, and as she finds them in a hut, she chuckles and summons her Deathcharger to carry some of them to the Healers to restore their Mana with it. Thanks go to her, but she just waves them aside.  
Cleaning out the town takes a while, since some soldiers have cowardly hidden themselves when the battle was clear to be hopeless for them. It is shortly after noon by now, and she smiles to the won battle. She hears hooves behind her and Major Darkbrook coming up. 

“Glad to see you're alive, Major.” 

“Same to you. We have won.” 

“I know. I didn't expect it to work that well.” 

A chuckle comes from the other Death Knight. “

Sometimes, we're just lucky.” 

“Indeed. Major, may you do me a favour and take some other mounted soldiers to quickly take a look at the Plague site? The fire should have ceased by now, and you should be able to enter without danger.” - “Sure, I love a risky undertaking once in a while. I'll take a cart with me as well, to collect some bones and maybe one or two survivors.” - “Good. I'll be glad to have one of our troops alive, and the Alliance as test subjects.” 

“Alright. Expect us back in the evening.” 

With that, she turns away and rides off.  
What are her tasks now, she wonders. Sure, writing a report for Sylvanas with the number of the fallen, and counting how many forces will stay here and how many will come back with her, and also... naming someone to look over the town, probably. She helps with the village first. In the afternoon, everything is set and she commands everyone out of it, then sending a few bats over it that throw a slightly weakened form of the Plague down to kill any Alliance survivor. No one would be able to enter this place for a few days, but however. Burning it down was no option due to the material they could use to rebuild Andorhal.   
In the evening, everything is set. She has discussed who will stay, since quite a few, about 1200, feel bonded with the town and who will accompany her back, which are only about 100 soldiers, but most of her leaders apart from Jearl Donald of the Apothecaries. She sees a cart and Mayor Darkbrook coming back. 

“We found no survivors. The Plague killed everything in a radius of a good 700 metres, possibly more. The bones in the cart are the only we found... only the big ones remained.” 

She nods. 

“We'll have a party tonight, and a short meeting. Do you wish to stay here or come back to the Undercity?” 

“I think I'll stay. I've grown fond of the town and it's surroundings, and I disliked the Undercity's concept of being under the earth pretty much. I still am fond of the sun.” 

Darkbrook winks. 

“Sure.”

She replies and finally heads up to her room to write the letter, taking the mutt's head and his spellblade with her.

_My queen._   
_I am glad to tell you we won. Andorhal is yours._   
_Of the 1500 soldiers that were stationed here, we lost about 300 today, including the ones guarding the convoy. About 1200 will stay in town, and since most of my leaders chose to accompany me back among the 100 that will, I'll set Major Darkbrook in charge of the town for now. Lieutenant Reeves proved himself worthy and I will give him his temporary position permanently in the meeting later on. I kept the bats here to use a weakened Plague on the Alliance's base to kill every hiding soldier we may have not seen. Most of their forces are dead now, but we have about 20 prisoners._   
_The preparations for our return are going on, and I believe we'll be able to depart early tomorrow. Our arrival should be in the evening, then. I'll let the severely wounded fly over with the bats to get the Undercity's medical attending as soon as possible._   
_The Dark Lady did watch over me, since I did not die._   
_I'll see you tomorrow, and I have a little gift for you in store._   
_Commander _______

She seals the letter with some icy blue wax and heads out to give it to a bird that flies away quickly. She motions for her leaders to come with her to the command room, and they follow without hesitation. 

“Commander ______, what will happen to this town now?”

Shadowflesh's voice rises in a question. 

“I have a solution for that, and another think I wish to discuss with you.” She smiles. “Firstly. Javier Reeves, you have proved yourself worthy in my opinion. What do you others think about that?” 

Alvingham starts. 

“He is. I saw him command his forces with intelligence.” 

Shadowflesh advances. “He threw himself in front of an arrow that almost struck one of his comrades.” 

Leafspell continues. 

“He carried a wounded one over to me himself.” 

Darkbrook ends. 

“And he obeyed the orders that were given to him.” 

The commander nods and gestures towards him. 

“So you indeed are worthy of your position.” 

He kneels before her. 

“T-Thank you so much...” 

“I hereby name you Lieutenant permanently. You are a full leader now and I suppose you'll get a unit when we get back to the Undercity.” 

“I will not disappoint.” 

“Glad to hear. Stand up.” 

He smiles and gets on both of his legs again. 

“That was the first thing.” She smiles. “And secondly, to answer your question, Lieutenant Shadowflesh. Most of you come with me, back to the Undercity. All but one. I plan to set Major Darkbrook in charge of the village for now.” 

“A very good idea. She knows how to lead.” 

“But... I am no Magistrate.” 

“I said for now. A Magistrate should be ready to come soon, and you'll be leader of the Andorhal forces then.” 

She nods. 

“Thank you, commander. I'll take this position. ” 

“Good, pleased to hear that. And now, let's not waste our time here further. We all deserve to attend the party outside.”

She winks and all of them leave the room to go feast on the Alliance's supplies with the others. Grinning, she joins as well, her mind already set on tomorrow.  
During the party, she initiates a moment of silence for the fallen, and everyone doesn't utter a sound for 313 seconds, the exact number of them according to counts. Talks with some Healers tell her that the bats with the wounded have left a few hours ago.  
After the feast, she takes a bath and washes her armour, then just falling into her bed and resting.

In the next morning, she gets up early and helps making the final steps for the departure, and as Major Darkbrook comes when everyone is fit to leave, she says goodbye to her as if talking to an old friend. 

“Take care here, and don't hesitate to write if you need anything.” 

“A few good builders may be nice, for the memorial.” 

“I'll send them over.” 

“Be sure to visit. You're the town's hero.” 

The Major winks, and she chuckles. 

“I'll see what I can do.” 

Silence occurs. 

“Guess this is goodbye now.” 

“Indeed it is. Take care, Yahen Darkbrook.” 

“You too, ____ ______. Also...”, she winks again, “...have fun with your little reward.” 

Shocked, the commander's ears twitch, and the Major chuckles. 

“I saw the letter on your desk.” 

“Bloody hell.”, she laughs, “But I hope so as well.” 

With a wink, she rides to the head of the departing group, giving the signal to move.  
The travel back is pretty calm, and as they pass the Plague site, shock takes over most of them. The ground consists of burned soil, and nothing grows in the radius of a good 800 metres. 

“It looks like the Dead Scar...”

She overhears one of the Blood Elves behind her whispering. She never had been back to her home, so she does not know what that one is talking about. It looks horrible, at least, and she swears to herself she will deal with the Cenarion Circle personally, and to help them regrow something there. They pass the spot in silence, thinking about all the people who died here yesterday. To their luck, none of the Circle are here now, otherwise there may have been blood on the ground as well.  
They reach the bulwark by noon, and the Forsaken there greet them with cheering, and a smile creeps onto her face. She waves her hand at them, and rides on. At the point where the way parts to Brill, some of the forces leave her, mainly those who wish to take the Zeppelins to the other cities, having duties elsewhere in Tirisfal or simply do not want to stay in the Undercity, reducing the group to a number of 70. At the gates of the city itself, another 30 leave for their duties in Tirisfal, Deathknell or the Silverpine forest. And last but not least, mainly Blood Elves leave for the Translocation Orb in the main square, leaving her only 20 people to enter the city with... and the prisoners, of course. Chuckling, she gives the signal to go ahead, and in the Trade Quarter, almost everyone spare for her second-in-commands take off, some taking the captured to the Apothecarium. Ariadne rides up to her and bids her goodbye for now, and she promises to come to the Magic Quarter soon. Her friend wishes her to have fun with a wink, and she chuckles when the Priest hurries away.  
Lieutenant Shadowflesh speaks up.

“Let's go.”

“Into the Dragon's Den.”

Leafspell adds with a sarcastic undertone in his voice. With a small laugh, they move on into the Royal Quarter on horseback, she riding in the front middle, Reeves and Alvingham on the one side, Shadowflesh and Leafspell on the other. Entering the throne room, she feels a familiar pair of eyes on her and looks up into those glowing red orbs.  
Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, sorry for those bad cliffhanger cuts in the last chapters.


	5. Chapter 5

No emotions are in Sylvanas' eyes, but their gazes keep locked for a moment longer than necessary. She dismounts, her second-in-commands doing as well, and takes a sack out from the bag at the side of her horse, heading up the staircase and kneeling in front of her queen, presenting it to her. She takes and opens it, pulling out the head of the Worgen and looking at it with a slightly disgusted, yet somehow pleased look. 

“I present to you... the head of Graham Oxworth, a symbol for our victory over the Alliance. Andorhal is yours, once and for all.”

She says proudly. 

“I was sure you would not disappoint me, commander ______.”

Sylvanas replies, handing the head over to one of the Dreadguards who rushes to get rid of it. 

“You have all done well and pleased your queen... even though getting rid of the Alliance's bickering over Andorhal took longer than planned in the first hand.”

She adds then, glaring at Lieutenant Shadowflesh. 

“Nobody expected them to come back.”

He murmurs, sounding a bit ashamed. She waves it aside. 

“Well then, at least this is finally over. I hope Major Darkbrook won't be a disappointment. I'll get a Magistrate right away.” 

“She also asked me for some builders... for the reconstruction of Andorhal and the memorial of those who sacrificed themselves.” 

Sylvanas nods, and her lips twitch. 

“I'll take care of that. Speaking of the sacrificed ones... how does the area look like?” 

“A radius of 800 metres, barren and without any life. Only black, burnt soil.” 

Leafspell rises his voice. 

“Like the Dead Scar, Mylady. Only with less undead shambling around.” 

“I see. Did you have any problems on your way back?” 

“No. Albeit I expect to get some angry letters by the Cenarion Circle soon... and I will take responsibility for that.”

“Fine.”, the queen says. “I am pleased with you. You managed to get me a town in 5 days others couldn't in years.” 

“I only wanted to serve the best I could, my queen.”

She replies, her ears lowered in a flustered way. She hears a dark chuckle from above. 

“Now go, all of you.

Sylvanas dismisses them, and she heads down the stairs and out of the room with the other leaders. Shadowflesh clears his throat.

“I... guess that's it, now, eh?”

“Yes.”, Leafspell mutters. “I, for my part, will be glad to see my home in the Eversong Woods again.” 

She chuckles. 

“See you, Major.” 

He bids farewell and walks away, direction Trade Quarter. 

“Well, guess we'll see in the city, unless we're given some tasks elsewhere.” 

“Indeed. See you all.” 

With that, the rest of the leaders leave.   
She sighs and walks to her home in the War Quarter, which she hasn't seen in quite a while. It consists of three rooms, one to live and work in, one to wash and one to sleep if she chooses to. She expects a layer of dust, but nothing is to be seen. Everything is spotless and almost shiny, as if it was just cleaned. With a smile, she supposes that's just how it was. She places her bags in a corner of the rooms and takes out the Worgen's spellblade. A wall in her living room is dedicated to collecting items of great soldiers she won over or just good-looking ones, and up to now, she has a bracer of Lady Eonys' she found when she returned to the place she killed her once, a shard of Arthas' shoulder armour and some weapons from Scourge and Alliance soldiers she killed over the years. And of other factions as the Scarlet Crusade. She hangs the spellblade up and writes a small note to it, as she does with every piece. Smiling, she looks at her work. Seems fit.  
A knock sounds on her door. 

“Come in.”

She replies, and a female Deathguard enters. 

“Commander ______?” 

“Yes, that would be me.” 

“Sylvanas gave me this letter to hand to you.” 

She places a scroll in her hand and leaves again, bowing. 

“You did good in Andorhal.” 

“Thank you.” 

The Forsaken nods and closes the door behind her. She takes a look at the scroll and anticipation rises inside of her again. She breaks the seal and reads it.

_Come to my office in two hours. Dress in a way that fits the occasion._

Her eyes sparkle. She wouldn't need her armour, that is sure. Fitting the occasion. Maybe dressing in an elegant way would be good. But first, she definitely would take a bath. She undresses, chuckling at the fact the marks are still visible, even if only a bit. Enjoying a good cold bath – since a hot one wouldn't be too good with her dead body – she washes everything that could've remained of the battle off of herself and makes her hair soft and almost shiny.  
She walks up to the wardrobe in her sleeping quarters and picks some nice black underwear and bindings, a black tunic with some silver patterns stitched into it, tight black pants and black deerskin boots, also with silver on them. To round it off, she chooses a simple silver necklace with a blue gem and silver bracelets, some black, short leather gloves and a decorative silver belt with blue gems as well. Looking at herself in the mirror, she seems fit for almost any formal occasion.  
And should she take anything as a gift with her? With a slightly humorous thought, she gets some chest bindings on the way to Sylvanas' office to replace the ones she'd keep, asking the vendor to wrap them, which she does with a confused expression, albeit does not complain when she gets more money due to that. A mischievous glint stays in her eyes when she knocks on the office door. But not Sylvanas is the one who opens, but a Dreadguard. 

“Commander ______?” 

“Yes?” 

“Follow me. She is already awaiting you.” 

He leads her down some corridors until he stops in front of a huge, massive wooden door. 

“She is inside.” 

He opens the door and announces her. 

“Commander ____ ______, hero of Andorhal!” 

Due to that title, she facepalms shortly, but enters the room with the proud demeanour that is asked of her in such occasion. She almost gasps.   
A table is set for two, with some noble-looking dinnerware. Sylvanas awaits her, sitting across from the door with her head on one of her hands, elbow on the table. She motions for the guard to close the door, which he does. No one else is in the room, and thus, the Banshee Queen stands up and the commander almost gasps again. The Dark Lady is wearing a crimson dress that is longer in the back than in the front, showing her legs starting about mid-thigh, slit in the back, held on the left shoulder. Black, leather boots fit tight on her lower legs, black gloves go up to her elbows and there is a black leather armband on her right upper arm. All in all, she is certainly the definition of hot.  
She suddenly feels like her outfit pales in comparison. But what wouldn't? Sylvanas looks... wow. 

“Are you done staring?”

That voice rips her back into reality. The humorous, amused tone is certainly clear to notice. 

“With respect, such a dress on you is a sight to behold. I simply couldn't believe my eyes that such beauty exists.” 

The queen chuckles. 

“You sure know how to use your words.” 

She bows. 

“It's my pleasure.” 

An eyebrow is raised. 

“What? Using your words or looking at me?” 

“Both. Though, if I was to decide, looking at you is far more enjoyable.” 

A laugh escapes those dark blue lips. 

“Sit down.”

Sylvanas commands, and she is happy to obey.  
As they took their seats, the Dark Lady claps once and a maid hurries in, bringing some blood red wine, pouring both of the a glass, and placing the bottle on the table before hurrying out again. The Banshee Queen takes her glass and raises it, and she does the same. 

“To your victory in Andorhal.”

The other announces, and she bows her head before they take a sip. 

“I admit I do not know much of wine, but this one is sure good.” 

“A brand the Forsaken brew themselves. This is one from two years after we broke free from Arthas' grasp... a very good age.” 

“I never knew the Forsaken made wine.” 

“Oh, no one really does. Most of it is handed to the Blood Elves anyway... and some, like this, are with a little blood in them.” 

“Blood?” 

The queen nods. 

“Indeed. It gives the unique taste. Though it is not used in pure form, they once tried that and it was horrible, all clumpy... They somehow distil it, but don't ask me how that is done.” 

“I see. A unique wine for sure.” 

A chuckle leaves the queen. 

“Yes. Good to see I hit your taste.” 

She smiles. 

“I'm glad as well.”, she says and winks. “Though, if I would not like it, I wouldn't tell for sure. I don't want to risk upsetting the Banshee Queen in a night like this.” 

The glint in Sylvanas' eyes tells her the queen knows what she hinted at. 

“Patience, commander.”

“Oh, for sure. Some things are worth a wait.” 

She smirks lightly, and the Dark Lady chuckles again. 

“Also, I'd be quite happy if you drop the formality and just use ____ to talk to me.” 

Sylvanas nods. 

“Well then, ____...” 

Gosh. Her name rolling off of those lips was definitely one of her favourite sounds now. 

“...how about we start the meal?” 

“I'd be glad.” 

Sylvanas claps another time and the same maid comes in, bringing some stew with her, placing it in front of the both of them. To the signal of Sylvanas, she tries it. The feeling on her tongue is sure something one has to get used to, and the taste as well. 

“This is sure... interesting.” 

The queen laughs. 

“Most of the living vomit due to it. This is stew made from Sewer Caps, one of the mushrooms found only in the Undercity.” 

“Well, the name says why most living cannot stand it.” 

The Dark Lady chuckles. 

“Quite the theory. The Forsaken – including me – usually find them taking to get used to, but then, enjoyable.” 

“Me as well. The first bite was... sure something, but now, I definitely enjoy it.” 

“I hit your taste again.” 

“Indeed you did, my queen.” 

She winks once, and they finish the stew.  
Sylvanas claps, and the maid comes in again and takes the bowls away, only to hurry in another time, carrying a plate with some fish. 

“Oh, that looks tasty.”

The Death Knight comments while nipping on the wine. 

“One of the Corpse-Fed Pikes from Brightwater Lake.” 

“I always wanted to try them.” 

“Now you can. Enjoy.” 

She nods, and both start eating. 

“You know, everything you let serve was a new taste for me up to now.” 

“We'll see if it stays that way...”

Sylvanas replies with a wink that makes a part of her mind run blank.

“The fish is sure tasty. Never thought feeding on corpses can make something that... delicate.” 

“Some Forsaken do that as well, and they're far from that.” 

The Death Knight laughs. 

“That is truly right, my queen. I've never met a delicate undead up to now.” 

“Be sure to tell me when you do. I might be interested to meet them.” 

“And risk losing other possibilities for a night like this due to some... delicate Forsaken tart? No way!”

She says under laughs, and her queen joins.   
They finish the fish, sharing an occasional look with amusement glinting in their eyes. 

“Would you still manage having the meat next?”

Her queen asks with a gaze that tells she'd understand if that wasn't the case, sipping from her wine again. “It would be alright. Your cooks prepare excellent amounts... I might just eat a bit. Also, I didn't eat a lot during the last weeks.”

Sylvanas nods and claps again, and the same process occurs. Maid in, taking the plates away, maid in again, bringing the new ones, maid out. On this one is dark meat in a slightly red sauce, decorated with... 

“Snails?” 

“How did you guess?” 

“The size. I already went to get some for Eunice Burch once.” 

“You ever got to try those?” 

“Once, I think. But I can't quite recall.” 

“I had hoped to surprise you again.”

“Maybe you will next. What is the meat, and that red sauce?” 

Sylvanas gestures to eat, and explains when she takes breaks from chewing. 

“The meat is from a Darkhound. I suppose you have eaten that already.” 

“Not often, to be honest.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Indeed. I never ate a lot.” 

“I would've scolded you for that if you were alive.” 

“Good I am not, then.” 

She chuckles, and the Dark Lady looks at her in an amused way. 

“The sauce is from Stillwater Lilies with some Brightwater Snails.” 

“Never thought of that combination, but I sure won't complain. It's delicious. Remind me I'll have to thank the cook later.” 

“I'll see.” 

Sylvanas winks, and she smiles on one side in response.  
When they are done, Sylvanas claps again, and the maid comes and takes the plates, looking at the queen questioningly. The Dark Lady lowers her head, nodding slowly, and she takes the wine away to replace it with another, which seemingly is purple. After that, the Forsaken bows deeply and leaves.  
The Death Knight looks at the Banshee Queen with a curious gaze, and Sylvanas chuckles. 

“The wine we had doesn't fit the occasion anymore. This one is lighter and far more... pleasurable.” 

Raising an eyebrow to her queen's choice of words, she only nods. 

“Don't worry, it is not poisoned. May you pour us a glass?” 

Smirking, she arises from her seat, walking across to the Dark Lady and taking the wine in the process. 

“Ah, an elfish wine.”

She mutters, looking down on the bottle's design. It has been opened already, and smiling at her queen, she serves one for her and then heads around the table again to pour herself. A smirk lies on Sylvanas' features as she raises her glass. 

“To this night.”

The Death Knight nods and they drink together. Indeed, that wine cajoles the sense of taste, leaving her satisfied with the meal and yet... longing for this night to continue. She chuckles. 

“Is something up?”

The Banshee Queen asks mockingly. 

“Oh, nothing. I just forgot I indeed have a little gift for you.” 

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she takes out the box and hands it to Sylvanas, who eyes it curiously before opening it.

“You haven't.”

The queen mutters before starting to laugh, taking out the chest bindings ____ got for her. 

“Honestly?” 

“I felt like I owed you one.”

She murmurs with a small wink. The Dark Lady's laugh fades to a chuckle, yet she seems highly amused. 

“What a unusual gift to bring. You really are full of surprises.” 

“Wouldn't be that interesting without that, would I?” 

Sylvanas smiles at her for a moment, and she sits down again, them both only drinking their wine in silence and occasionally looking at each other, their gazes locking more often than not. She tries to think of a way to get this night into another direction but finds none, deciding to sip on her wine instead. Her glass gets empty shortly before the one of her queen, and when she has poured herself another, Sylvanas gestures for her to serve her queen as well.   
Just when she finished filling a fitting amount into the Dark Lady's glass, that one raises her voice. 

“Put the bottle down.” 

Without hesitation, she obeys, feeling a shiver on her spine which only gets stronger when the queen's hand places itself on her lower back, pulling her closer towards Sylvanas, eventually into her lap, where the other hand is put under her chin, forcing it to the side and then down to finally have a kiss.   
She moans softly when their lips touch, tasting that wine and another thing that is unmistakeably Sylvanas, while she adjusts her position in a way she can straddle her queen, placing her own hands at the sides of Sylvanas' face to deepen their kiss. The hand from her chin is tangled in her hair to secure her, while the other presses their bodies together. As soon as she feels Sylvanas' tongue on her lips, she opens her mouth to rub her own against it, gentle at first, then more passionate when their kiss intensifies. The hand on her lower back slowly heads down for the hem of her tunic and lifts it as far as possible due to the belt, stroking the thin line of skin it can reach.   
She moans again, subconsciously pressing her hips against Sylvanas, who growls a bit in response and scrapes her nail over that skin, eliciting a soft gasp into the kiss. Her own hands change position – one wrapping around the queen's neck and one slowly moving downwards, gripping the Dark Lady's breast gently and massaging it, making her growl again. She moves her hips against those of Sylvanas another time, with the Dark Lady mimicking the action this time, ending in her gasping and Sylvanas uttering a low moan, forcing them to break the kiss, red orbs gazing into blue. 

“Bedroom. Now.”

Her queen's voice is low enough to send shivers down her spine. She obeys in an instant, climbing down from the Dark Lady's lap and standing up, offering a hand in a polite manner, but Sylvanas declines, getting up herself yet gripping her arm to drag her along, albeit remembering to take the chest bindings with her.   
They head out of the massive doors, the guard in front of them seeing the situation and, to a glare of the Banshee Queen, saluting and bowing to tidy it up. Smiling, the lady takes her down another few corridors, not saying a word. The Death Knight's longing to kiss her again grows with every passing step, but luckily, they arrive in the Dark Lady's private chambers soon, heading into the bedroom, where her arm is released.  
For a moment, she admires the beautiful bed and furniture that reminds a little of Quel'Thalas. But mere seconds later, she is spun around and happy to welcome those lips on her own again. Sylvanas' hands place themselves on her waist, and she wraps her own around her neck again, tongues touching passionately. Soon, her belt falls to the ground and not long after that, she feels those fingers on her bare skin again, drawing on her back, occasionally scratching a bit, making her moan softly in response. Her tunic is pulled over her head with the amount of time their lips have to be parted shortened to a mere moment where she makes a whimpering noise before they clash again, the clothing landing in a corner of the room, with her chest bindings following closely, albeit not being torn this time.   
She chuckles to that, and after a second, so does Sylvanas, them breaking their kiss and just looking into each other's eyes for a moment. She moves a step ahead and wraps her arms around her, searching for the fastening of her dress and soon finding it. With a gentle kiss, she opens it and the crimson robe falls to the ground, the Dark Lady stepping out of it. Next, she unfastens the chest bindings and tosses them aside, marvelling the pale blue skin and the muscles beneath it. She kisses her queen's collar softly, their chests touching, Sylvanas humming in response which soon turns into a growl as her lips wander lower to her breast, one of her hands stroking the other as she kisses it, licking over the nipple and biting it at some points while the Dark Lady lets her head fall back and enjoys her touch.  
The other of her hands, meanwhile, goes lower and lower without touching, a thing her queen only notices when it finds her clit beneath the underwear that is already slightly damp, a gasp turning into a moan as she toys with it. She straightens her back again, the bent position not really comfortable, and guides Sylvanas to lie on the bed, climbing atop her and kissing her again while pulling down the last piece of cloth, her mouth and hands instantly resuming their places when it is tossed aside.   
The Dark Lady seems to be a quite silent lover, not making many sounds, but honestly, she likes it that way. It seems like even more of a reward when a sound leaves her lips... such as the gasp of surprise when she bites down on the nipple and pinches the other while pushing one finger inside, thumb attached to her clit. The low moans leave her lady again when she works inside, finding her g-spot and pressing against it, soon able to add a second finger for more friction. An idea comes to her mind and she stops every movement of her hand down there, making Sylvanas growl in response. She moves up and kisses her again softly, but the Banshee Queen would have none of it. She bites her lower lip sharply, moving her hips against the fingers inside of her to give a command without a voice. Chuckling, ____ obeys, kissing down Sylvanas' body while the hips still rock against her fingers. As their eyes lock again, she lowers her head and licks over the clit once while keeping contact, watching in pleasure when Sylvanas closes her eyes and lowly moans again.   
After some other agonisingly slow licks, she finally attaches her lips to that nub, sucking and nipping on it passionately while moving her fingers again, alternating between rubbing against the g-spot and plunging deep inside of her, and her queen cannot contain her moans longer and lets them loose, sounds that are music to her ears. Just a bit, and the Dark Lady would be over the edge, she senses and becomes more forcefully in her moves, using her free hand to grip the Banshee Queen's legs. Sylvanas comes without a sound, all of those muscles tensing. She calms the flesh down with soft touches, giving a last kiss to the clit before she uses her tongue to clean her fingers, wiping her chin and licking that off as well.   
When Sylvanas opens her eyes, she is greeted by a smile from the Death Knight. The lady perches herself up on an elbow, pulling ____ close and kissing her once before switching positions. 

“So, little one... I do believe you have deserved a reward now.”

The Banshee Queen kisses her neck on the two still visible marks before biting down on each of them, ensuring they'll be dark and bruised again tomorrow. She groans to that, taking small pleasure from the pain. One of Sylvanas' legs moves between her own and keeps just out of reach of her hips, although she can clearly feel it is there. A whimper leaves the Death Knight's throat as she is very much aroused from watching her queen come undone to her touch, desiring nothing more than to be touched herself. 

“Please...”

She begs in a desperate voice, but Sylvanas only licks the shell of her ear. 

“Shhh... remember I had time to think of what exactly I'll do to you... and what did you say for yourself earlier...?” 

The lady nips on the end of her ear, making her moan and whimper. 

“You said some things are worth a wait.” 

With that, Sylvanas places her hands on ____'s breasts, rolling the buds between thumb and index finger, sending sparks of pleasure down through the Death Knight, another impatient moan escaping her lips.  
Chuckling, the Dark Lady licks over the bite marks again and kisses the other's collar, nipping on them, albeit not very gentle. 

“Quit t-the teasing... I beg you...”

She whimpers again, trying to get the knee between her legs to leave some friction. 

“Why should I? I'm quite enjoying myself seeing you squirming beneath me, little one.” 

If that was even possible, those words arouse her even more, and a soft curse escapes her lips that are soon sealed with another kiss, while the hands continue to tease her breasts, but get a little more forceful in their actions, a thing ____ gladly senses.   
With another dark chuckle that sends shivers down her spine, Sylvanas withdraws one of her hands to draw down, placing itself on her clit ever so gently. 

“You really seem desperate.”

Her queen comments that soaked underwear, and she only groans in response. 

“Mercy...”

She whispers, and the Dark Lady kisses her again, finally getting rid of the garment and tossing it aside, then moving her kisses downwards, between her breasts, though Sylvanas does bite both of her nipples, an action that makes her moan again, as well as her hipbones and leaves some hickeys on her thighs, such delightful torture that no coherent sound can possibly leave her lips. Finally, she feels those lips touching her nether lips, playfully nipping there before Sylvanas finally locks them, pressing her tongue against the Death Knight's clit, clawing into her hips to keep her from moving them too much. Moans and whimpers resonate in the room, having been elicited from ____'s throat while the tongue of the Banshee Queen relentlessly works on her nether regions, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. 

“Don't stop, I beg you...”

She pleads, and with a chuckle, Sylvanas does exactly that.  
The eyes of the undead elf beneath her are half-lidded and beg her to go on, her hands clawed into the sheets and lips parted slightly in an attempt to groan, but no sound leaves her apart from an incredibly soft whimper. 

“Wouldn't have thought of it.”

The Banshee Queen mutters and lowers herself again, using her tongue and soon adding her teeth to draw some light screams from her commander, mixed with curses, moans and an occasional gasp. At the same time, she scratches over her thighs, leaving marks there as well. When she is at the planned end of the marks, an orgasm washes over ____, vision fading to white and body tensing in pleasure, mouth opened in a choked scream.  
As she comes down from her height, Sylvanas is already laying next to her and pulled the covers over the both of them. Without a trace of hesitation, she wraps an arm around her queen. 

“I have to hand you towns more often...”

She talks with a raspy voice, and Sylvanas smiles for a second. 

“Not for now, little one. I'll keep you here.” 

“Fine with me as well.”

She murmurs with a content sigh, kissing the Dark Lady's neck. 

“I far more enjoyed undressing you by the way.” 

A chuckle leaves the Banshee Queen.

“Rest a bit, ____. You had some tough days.” 

She hums in approval and dozes off, not noticing Sylvanas slipping out of the bed soon after, getting dressed and looking down on her sleeping form for a moment before turning to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I am sorry about the chapter's ending.  
> And for the ones wondering why: This story focuses on a physical relationship gradually becoming one without limitations. And Sylvanas is not one to stay and cuddle with someone after only having dinner once and sex twice, but she is a woman with a tough shell, a reason why I cannot tell how long this fic will last. In the other fics, the protags had something that already made a bond between her and the queen - the Ranger had their past with mutual feelings and Reyn had the Val'kyr bond. The little Death Knight has nothing but sex and some dinner chat bonding her to Sylvanas right now. I have a few steps in their relationship planned, and also some side arcs, so this fic will indeed be quite a long one. ^^  
> (Sorry if I bothered anyone with that explanation.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly... sorry it took longer. I had an awful lot of tasks during the last days and my plot bunny ran off somewhere. But I always feel so guilty when keeping you waiting, so I wrote. It is pretty late now and I wanted to go sleep an hour ago. ^^  
> But instead, I decided to hopefully cheer you all up. Have fun!

When she opens her eyes again, the familiar tingle of a great night's aftermath spreads throughout her, and smiling, she hums and sits up... only to find the bedside next to her empty. She frowns, a little disappointed, nonetheless standing up and collecting her clothes to get dressed. After that, she heads out of the bedroom, a little hope flickering in her that the Banshee Queen may be in the living room of her chambers... yet she is not. No trace of her is there.   
Why had she hoped anyway.   
Without a trace, she leaves the queen's rooms, only to head to her own, avoiding people as much as she could. When her own door lock behind her, she sighs and gets undressed again, taking a bath and examining the new marks on her body, chuckling softly. No, Sylvanas is not gentle in bed, but she likes it that way.  
She steps out of the tub again and gets dressed in casual leggings, boots and top, laying on the thinking about what to do now. She is in no mood to go out in the woods to hunt, and no real mood to help various people in the city either. Looking around the room, her gaze falls onto the Worgen's spellblade. He had been so much stronger than her... maybe a bit of training wouldn't be wrong. She gets up and out into the War Quarter, heading for the areas the Forsaken soldiers trained in, not taking long until she finds a place. It seems like some among the forces like to do some sparring, and with a shrug, she decides to take a look at it. A Warrior comes to greet her. 

“Commander ______, it is an honour. What can I do for you?” 

“Is there a place for me to sign up here?” 

“You- you want to join us?” 

“Yes. I noticed being physically weaker than one of my opponents in the final battle for Andorhal and wish to, well, train a little. Sparring seems like a good way.” 

He bows. 

“Truly an honour. My name is Frank Gutfist, and I am the manager of the Undercity Sparring Team. Or, as my folks call it, UnSpaTe.” 

She chuckles to this ridiculous name, but decides to join anyway. 

“Have you got any experience?” 

“I trained fist fighting when I was a young, rebellious Elf, and sometimes alone when I was bored. It became part of my fighting later on, though.” 

“I see. I'll test you against the best in the four groups we have. The Fresh, the Rotten, the Decayed and the Bones.”

Again, she chuckles below her breath to those names. She gets lead into the middle of the training ground, and Gutfist raises his voice. 

“Listen up everyone!” 

The fighters, about 30, stop their fights for a moment, looking over to their manager who gestures for them to come closer. 

“Some of you may already know her, but this extraordinary Death Knight is commander ______, the hero of Andorhal.”

A surprised gasp comes from the assembled Forsaken, some murmurs arising why she might be here. 

“She wishes to join our little club here. Has anyone got something against it?” 

No voice gets aloud, and so, he turns to her. 

“Welcome to UnSpaTe. Now, Copeland, Doomwalker, Noire, Grimsend!”

Four come forth, two male and two female Forsaken. He gestures to them. 

“Those are the leaders of the four groups.” 

He points to them, introducing who they are.

“This one there is Fredi Copeland, of the Fresh.” 

A pretty young-looking Mage.

“There is Maya Doomfall, leader of the Rotten.” 

A Rogue who must've died in her thirties.

“Of the Decayed, Genivee Noire!” 

A female Warrior, and she cannot tell how old she must've been.

“And the strongest of all, Bonham Grimsend!” 

A Monk who nods at her, mixed emotions in his eyes.  
She bows. 

“Pleased to meet you all.” 

They bow a little deeper to her, knowing her position as commander. 

“Now that we're done with the introductions, let's begin to sort her, eh? Copeland, your turn!” 

The Mage takes place across from her, fists raised. 

“I won't go easy on you.”

She warns, raising her own fists. 

“I don't expect you to!”

The reply comes shortly, the Forsaken charging towards her. Yet it does not take long for her to win this. A few good dodges and a kick are enough to end the fight. 

“Good, good. Copeland, get some rest. Doomfall, your turn!” 

She charges without a word, quick as a cat, and the difference in abilities is clear to be seen. She has to take a few blows, albeit landing some of her own, and when she sees a minimal opening in her opponent's movement, she aims for it swiftly, making the woman stumble and fall onto her back. 

“Won as well! Noire!” 

The next combatant bows once before her, then attacks. She is faster than the other two, and certainly strong. The commander is already weakened a bit due to exhaustion (and the night before), so her reflexes aren't as good anymore. She feels herself losing this battle, yet her spirit to win stays there. As she is pushed on her back, she pulls her knees to her chest and kicks Noire off of her, sending her flying a few meters yet landing on her feet. She is over her again after a few seconds, pushing her down after a last struggle. 

“Well then. You're part of the Decayed up until further notice, but I bet you've had enough for today. Go and rest a bit, both of you. Noire, explain her everything she needs to know.” 

The Warrior turns towards her. 

“Come on.” 

She leads her to a small shed, opening the door and stepping inside. There is a small sink with some cold water, and the Death Knight washes her face and neck quickly, feeling the energy come back. 

“Judging by those bruises, you have quite the lover, eh?”

An amused voice sounds from behind. 

“You could say so.”

She replies, shortly indulging in last night's memories before turning to the leader of her group. 

“So... what is the deal with this?”

The Forsaken explains. 

“We meet almost every day, when we have free time. It does not matter that much. Basically, you can fight anyone, but only climb up a group if you beat the leader of it, namely me. You can also help those in the lower groups by teaching them a bit, and ask the higher ones for help. If you feel like challenging me, do it... and when you beat me, you'll get the choice of climbing up or become the next group leader. And basically... that's it.” 

“I see. Thank you for the explanation.” 

Noire waves it aside. 

“No big deal, commander ______.” 

“Oh please. No formalities or titles.” 

“Yes, ______.” 

She smiles. 

“Now, if you would excuse me, I kind of want to really wash myself now.” 

“Reasonable. See you soon.” 

With a nod, she turns away and heads back to her room, rinsing the cold sweat off of her body and changing into another outfit, thinking about what to do now. Maybe she could visit Ariadne? Probably a good idea, as she did promise that. Humming, she goes out of the door, towards the Magic Quarter where she looks for her friend, spotting her after a while. 

“Oh, ____!” 

“Hello, Ariadne.” 

“Glad to see you! Took you long enough, but those bite marks tell me you had reasons.” 

She laughs. 

“Indeed.” 

“I kinda am really interested now, but speaking about that in public...” 

“Then, let's go to my room.” 

“You just came from there, I suppose.” 

“Sure, but... there is no other place to talk about... you know.” 

Her friend chuckles, eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“Then... take the lead, commander.” 

With a bemused glare, she looks at her friend, who only winks jokingly. Together, they walk back to her room, where she lets herself fall on the couch and her friend takes a seat next to her. 

“Soooooo... tell me what happened.” 

“Well, she invited me for dinner.” 

“How classy.” 

“We had some Forsaken wine, it was very tasty. The soup was from Sewer Caps. The fish was one of the Corpse-Fed Pikes and the meat a Darkhound with sauce made Stillwater Lilies with Brightwater Snails in it.” 

“Fancy.” 

“I thought so as well. Well, after that, we had an Elvish wine and then...” 

“Dessert.” 

She laughs. 

“If you wish to call it like that, then yes. I liked the dessert best, to be honest.” 

“What a surprise.”

Ariadne mutters ironically, and she laughs again.   
Then, her friend smirks at her. 

“Aaaand? Got any more love marks than those on your neck~?” 

She chuckles. 

“On my hips and thighs. Some small ones on my chest.” 

“The queen seems... really not quite gentle.” 

“Trust me, she is not at all. But...” 

“You like it that way?” 

She nods in response. 

“Sylvanas has something undeniably sexy about her... dunno what. But I like it.” 

“You sure do. Haven't heard you complaining about anything.” 

“And I probably won't. She is... amazing. The way she looked yesterday... it was so... just wow.” 

“Hm?” 

“She wore a dress. A wonderful red dress. Black gloves and black boots. She was... just... I can't find a word for it.” 

“Oh dear, you are really smitten. But please... promise me you'll try keeping feelings out of that. As long as the thing you two have is only sex... there won't be a problem. But as soon as your heart adds something... things are about to get complicated.” 

“I know. I'll do my best. I mean, an undead with feelings in the direction of love is a bit... unusual.” 

Her friend grimaces for a second. 

“Well, actually, it is quite a common thing. But the more you have suffered in the last time of your life and the start of undeath... the harder it gets with any romantic feelings.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I admit I was interested in our kind when we broke free from Arthas, so I made some studies. You can find them in the Undercity's library.” 

“I'll be sure to take a look.” 

Ariadne smiles. 

“Hope I can hit your taste in books.” 

“Well, I never read that much, but Sylvanas said she'd keep me here for a while, so I'll need something to do. Already joined the sparring team since I noticed that Worgen being much stronger than me.” 

“Interesting. Maybe I'll watch you fight once.”

Ariadne winks at her. 

“When? Do you plan to watch training or...?” 

“Nah, but sometimes, there are fights for public amusement. Quite funny to watch, and some people even bet.” 

“You'd set on me, eh?” 

“Sure. I know how strong and intelligent you are.” 

“I feel flattered.” 

“Maybe Sylvanas will watch you once as well?” 

“Oh, that'd be funny. I definitely would try even harder to win, then.” 

“Want to impress her, eh?” 

“Of course. I want her to like me, after all.” 

“You only want to get in her bed again.” 

She chuckles. 

“Won't deny that. She is-”

A knock on the door interrupts her. 

“Yes?”

____ asks to come in, and a Dreadguard enters. 

“Commander ______, your presence is requested in the throne room. It is urgent.” 

“I'll come back with you. Ariadne, I'll find you later.”

Her friend nods and they part at the door, she following the guard back to the Royal Quarter, able to hear angry voices inside. 

“...TO SPEAK WITH THE ONE RESPONSIBLE IMMEDIATELY!”

Someone yells, and she can hear Sylvanas replying in the calm, dangerously low voice she uses when she is annoyed.

“The commander will be here soon. And lower your voice, Tauren. I do not want to have my guards escorting you to a more quiet place.” 

She moves closer towards the throne room, seeing an angry black and white Tauren female glaring at the Banshee Queen. The guard strides past her, announcing her arrival. 

“Commander ____ ______, hero of Andorhal!” 

Again, the title makes her eyes roll, and all looks fly to her. 

“So you are the one who ordered that... devastation of the Western Plaguelands!”

The Tauren growls in a threatening way, bristling in anger. 

“I am responsible for that explosion, yes. It was necessary to end the Battles going on in the town.” 

“HAVE YOU GOT ANY IDEA WHAT YOU DID TO THE NATURE?!” 

She sees Sylvanas narrowing her eyes again, then looking at her and furrowing her brows. The Death Knight mouthes 'I will solve this.' to her queen, who only nods lightly. She turns back to the angry woman again.

“I'd be pleased if you introduce yourself first so I can know who I am talking to.” She starts, signalling she is not done albeit she makes a short break, “And yes, I am aware what I did. I examined the damage myself on my way back here.” 

The Tauren snorts again, apparently clenching her fists. 

“I am Kolda Grasswhisper. I was sent by the Cenarion Circle to talk to the one responsible for the damage in the Western Plaguelands.” 

“I said I am. Honestly, if I would have had a better idea to end the battles in Andorhal quickly, I would have used this. Believe me, I thought about it quite long.” 

“And still, the damage is there. A huge area barren of any life.” 

“Listen, I would apologise if I was sorry, but I am not. I pity you for having to deal with what my plan required as a sacrifice. And if I can do something to help you fix it, I will. But do not expect me to be sorry in any way.” 

“You should be.”, the other hisses, “You have no idea what you did.”

“I have. And I would rather look at what I achieved.” 

“WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE POSITIVE ABOUT THAT?!” 

“For example, the fights are over. Neither the Alliance nor we will hinder you in your work again.” 

“THAT IS NO EXCUSE FOR ALL THE LIVING YOU RUINED!” 

“It is not.” 

Her voice lowers to that dangerous, icy tone she already used on Lostbiter when she threatened him. 

“Do you think that plan was nothing for me? Do you think it was easy sending my own soldiers to die in that explosion? I wanted to end the battles so there'd be peace again in Andorhal. If anything, blame the Alliance for not accepting our victory and prolonging the fights over there! Blame them for forcing me to do this!”

“IT STILL IS YOUR DAMN FAULT!” 

“I know. And I don't give a shit. I said I would help you in trying to make life grow again, but do not ever expect me to be sorry.” 

She turns away, and starts to head out of the throne room. 

“MAYBE YOUR DEATH WOULD BE QUITE THE HELP.”

The Tauren yells after her. She turns back to look at the ambassador, glaring icily. 

“As my queen already asked of you, calm down, Grasswhisper. It has happened and cannot be made undone anymore. Send me a letter if you have anything further, but I am in no mood to continue this conversation anymore. Have a good way back.”

She looks at her coldly and spins around again, feeling the Tauren's eyes burning in her back... and another gaze of two familiar red orbs on her, making a shiver run down her spine.  
Growling in frustration and annoyance, she walks out of the Royal Quarter and into the training area, choosing to beat the shit out of one of the punching bags, not trusting herself enough to keep control over her strength during a possible sparring session. Wrapping some bandages over her fists to keep them from being bruised, she strides to the bags – to her luck, almost no one is training here – and picks one of them. She just imagines Grasswhisper's face on the sack, and her fists start punching it. Dodging then and now as if it was a real enemy, she manages to land one or two good kicks as well, increasing in number the longer she trains.   
She lets every bad feeling out on it – her anger to the betrayal of one of her Lieutenants, the grief one of her comrades and best Warriors had chosen to die, her rage due to the fact she cannot really remember who she was in her life before undeath, and the slight disbelief of her own feelings, her want and longing for her queen that had already the slightest of hints that it wasn't only the desire to sleep with her again anymore.  
When she is covered in cold sweat again and her emotions are in a state she can control them again, she lets go, takes a deep breath and looks at the bag. It dangles there, looking not really damaged, but she is more composed now. Chuckling, she thinks the third wash will be necessary today, shrugs and takes her leave for her room, feeling like she could use some sleep again tonight.  
Entering her room, she sighs and draws herself a bath, stepping into the tub and letting herself sink into the cold water. Maybe she should consider bathing in the Lordamere Lake outside one day. It would certainly be interesting. She chuckles when she sees the bite marks and scratches on her thighs. She remembers the night before and Sylvanas doing what lead to them, and subconsciously touches one of the hickeys, humming softly. She almost instantly recognises what this could actually lead to, what she is actually doing here, and just washes herself quickly, wrapping a towel around herself to dry off.   
When she is done, she places the towel where it belongs so it can dry properly, walking over to her bed and climbing on the mattress, covering herself with the blanket. She closes her eyes, and her mind wanders off to some red orbs piercing her own as their owner gradually leans closer to finally kiss her lips again, her anticipation building for that moment. Just another second, just...  
A sharp knock on the door interrupts her. Quickly, she throws the cover off, taking a long nightgown she owns to have a piece of clothing on her body, and walks over to the door, opening it. 

“Comman- oh, I apologise for intruding. Were you about to sleep?” 

“I was trying to. But no worries. What is the matter?” 

“Sylvanas wishes to talk to you. She is waiting in her office. You might want to... cover up, though.” 

“Give me a moment. You can go tell her I'll be there as soon as I can, I'll find my way.” 

“As you wish, commander.” 

The Forsaken salutes and leaves, and she closes the door, taking a moment to compose herself. What was it her queen wanted of her? What should she dress in? Wait. Her office. So probably some official duty. Better take something formal, then... but not her armour, that'd be too much.  
She quickly throws the nightgown off, putting on some chest bindings and underwear, then a pair of dark grey leather combat boots and gloves as well as a matching tunic, some icy blue pants and a belt of the same colour and, to round it off, wraps some bandages in the same colour around her upper arms. A look in the mirror tells she looks alright.   
As fast as possible, she hurries to the Royal Quarter and further on to Sylvanas' office, nodding towards the guard. She nods back and knocks, announcing her, again with this annoying 'hero of Andorhal' title. She walks into the room, bowing once, then looking into the eyes of her queen. 

“You wanted to see me? Here I am.”

Sylvanas looks at her with a gaze she cannot read, then nods slowly. 

“I am pleased with you.” 

“I- for what?” 

“Firstly, the fact you took merely 4 minutes to come here and get changed into some proper clothes.” 

“Oh, I just grabbed the first ones that fit each other and the occasion. Thought wearing only my nightgown wouldn't be that much of a fortunate choice.” 

Sylvanas looks at her with bemused eyes, and a flicker rushes through them shortly. 

“I wouldn't have minded that much.”

She says with a small wink. The Death Knight stares in surprise, blinking, but then chuckles. 

“Alright then. Next time, I'll be here in one minute.” 

“I see if I can take you up on that.” 

She bows her head shortly, happy at how easy it is to flirt a little with her queen – which is no real surprise regarding the thing they did when she was in her office the last time.

“And secondly?” 

She asks calmly as that comes to her mind. 

“Hm?” 

“You said, firstly. Is there a second thing you are pleased with me for?” 

“There is. I was positively surprised you did seem to try arguing and finding a solution with that Tauren.” 

She chuckles. 

“I promised I'd take responsibility, and I will never break a promise.” 

“You seem to be quite loyal.” 

“I am.” She falls to her knee. “And my loyalty belongs all to you.” 

Another look glints in the red orbs, and Sylvanas eyes narrow for a second before she raises her voice again, sounding slightly irritated.

“What are you doing to me, commander?!” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“I have given you the reward we both wanted, yet I find myself desiring you over and over again. What are you doing to me?!”

The queen growls, slightly annoyed by herself. 

“I- my queen, I-” 

“Stop the stuttering.” 

“I do not know... but...” 

“But what?!” 

She rises from kneeling, walking over to the queen's seat with a smirk. 

“I promise to fulfil your wishes.”

With a wink, and a responding surprised look of Sylvanas, she initiates the first kiss today, allowing the Dark Lady to pull her on her lap again do deepen their touches. She breaks the kiss for a second. 

“And... and I wanted to note I desire the same.”

The look in the Banshee Queen's eyes gets darker, an all to familiar one she has seen quite often during the two encounters with her they spent privately, with no one in the room but them. ____ moves her hips against Sylvanas', moaning softly when she feels her respond almost immediately, continuing the kiss almost desperately, their tongues touching and hands roaming the other's body. The queen is still wearing her armour, a fact that annoys her a bit since getting naked would take a good while, so the Death Knight only loosens the pieces covering the loins before slipping a hand into the leggings and undergarments, finding the little nub almost immediately and starting to rub it passionately, making her queen curse softly into her mouth and grab the arms of the chair instead of her to not hinder any of her touches, an action she can understand despite not being able to enjoy the pleasurable scratching and the feel of the queen's arms against and around her anymore.  
She moves her other hand to stroke Sylvanas' upper body, roaming over the parts she can reach before she removes also the chest piece, brushing over the breasts still held in their bindings while still stroking and occasionally flicking her clit, inserting two fingers at some point and starting a quick rhythm soon that has her queen growling into the kiss, then dipping her head back as the pleasure slowly begins taking over every one of her senses. The Death Knight lower her head to the Dark Lady's collar, nibbling at the bones after pushing the collar of her hood aside and then slipping the other hand into the bindings, kneading her breasts – neither gently nor too forcefully.   
The occasional low moan leaves those dark lips then and now when she starts moving against the g-spot inside and rubbing the clit with her thumb at the same time, slowly pushing her queen to the edge. She increases the pace and strength of her movements when Sylvanas' body signals she is almost there, kissing with passion again to muffle the growl when her queen finally reaches her peak, all of her beautiful – despite almost not visible – muscles tensing, breaking the kiss at some point in the process. Brushing the flesh a few more times with slow and long strokes, she helps the Dark Lady getting down from her high, withdrawing her hand and licking her fingers free of the release just as those red orbs open again, satisfaction in them.  
She just enjoys the taste of the Banshee Queen on her tongue, cleaning her hand slowly, smiling with a light smirk.

“Hope I managed to delight you, my lady.” 

“You did, just as I expected.” 

She, with a softer, still happy expression climbs off of the queen's lap, not expecting anything in return this time since Sylvanas for once looks pretty content with almost everything, even though a slight throb below tells the sex did arouse her. Quickly, she picks up the armour pieces she took off, remembering how to fasten them and quickly doing that with skilled hands. The Dark Lady nods in acknowledgement, and chuckles then. 

“What is it that amuses you, my queen?” 

“Just the fact I forgot to mention the Tauren brought a letter with her I wanted to give you.” 

“Have you read it?” 

“No, I decided it will be your task to tidy up the mess you made in the Western Plaguelands.” 

“Well, somehow glad you forgot it...”, she replies with a wink that makes another dark chuckle leave the queen's lips, “Anyway, I will take care of it.” 

“Fine.” Sylvanas takes a sealed letter from her desk, giving it to her. “There you are. Report to me if you need anything, commander.” 

“I will.”

She replies with a bow, turning around and leaving the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In some way, I am disapponted there was smut again, yet I am not. Sure tell me what you think please, if that's okay with you.  
> On one side, I needed their 'real' physical relationship to start, on the other... meh. Dunno.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed nonetheless.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the belated update. My life kinda is a single mess right now and lack of motivation and time are issues I have to deal with... as well as a bad emotional state. I do apologise.  
> And I don't think I'll be able to update soon since my finals are literally next week. I'll have to see when I can get the next chapter out, I'll do my best. But I'll never abandon this fic.
> 
> Hope those of you who celebrate had a nice Easter!

Stepping into the hallway, she realises that she basically just got kicked out after having sex. Somewhere deep inside of her, it stings due to that, but she ignores that fact. It's probably nothing important anyway. She shakes her head and walks back to her own room, closing the door behind herself and leaning against it for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm down. Sleep seems impossible at the moment, she has this letter to take care of. Striding over to the desk in the corner of her living room, she takes a seat, breaking the seal and opening the scroll Sylvanas had handed to her, reading the words intently.

_Greetings, commander._   
_This letter is for the one responsible for the destruction of an area within the Western Plaguelands, a matter that pains us Druids to a strong extent. My apologies should the messenger have yelled at you._   
_And this thing has to be solved quickly, as the mood here slowly gets angry and some of the members curse you and your actions. This is not what I want, I do not wish to see us starting a war against the Forsaken. Instead, I would like to ask you to come over to the Mender's Stead for a few days so we can both talk about how to deal with the situation and find a diplomatic solution together. I would like to see you in a few days, if that's possible._   
_Send me a letter to tell if you can come or not. I want this matter to be solved as soon as possible._   
_Adrine Towhide,_   
_agent of the Cenarion Circle_

With a sigh, she accepts she probably has to return there quite soon, meaning she will have to go away from Undercity again. She'll have to find some others to take there, already deciding to make Ariadne go with her. Furthermore, she could use that occasion to pay a visit to Andorhal when she was done with the Druids. She would merely have to tell that Sylvanas and ask her for a small escort, and already begins to think about what she may do to help the Circle regrow the area.  
In the Battle of the Wrathgate, Red Drakes came and burned everything affected by the plague down, but since nothing grows in Icecrown anyway, it was impossible to tell whether or not life could grow there again. And her troops had burned everything as well... shaking her head, she decides sleep may indeed be a good idea to do now. She could still think about that tomorrow, and then maybe take her leave the day after. But first, she needs to reply.

_I send my regards to you, Towhide._   
_It was me who is responsible for the destruction there in the end, and I will come in about two days if I manage. Seeing this matter solved would bring joy to me, as I do not wish keeping in conflict with the Cenarion Circle._   
_I hope we can find a solution together that does not involve bloodshed in any way. War against the Druids wouldn't be what any of us wished, either. I still hope you can assure the safety of me and my escort when we come to visit you._   
_Commander _______

Placing the letter on the table, she undresses and walks over to the bed, letting herself fall onto it and covering her body with the sheets, closing her eyes and hoping no one would disturb her now... even though the last disturbance proved to be worth it in the end. With a soft chuckle, she falls asleep, dreaming of nothing she'll be able to remember.  
In the next morning, she gets up and lays some clothes for later on onto the chair in the room, then stretches herself and puts on some training garments instead, heading out and into the sparring area to wake up fully and start her day with some exercises, albeit she does take the letter with herself to throw it into the next mailbox. When she is there and jumps into the sand of the training ground, her presence is acknowledged by some nods. With surprise, she notices that the different groups have different coloured clothes on them, the Fresh being green, the Rotten blue, the Decayed purple and the Bones grey. She looks onto her own garments. Black, as usual. She decides to ask Noire for some in the colour of her group.

“Com- I mean ______, would you do me the honour of fighting against me?”

A female clad in purple asks, going over to her. 

“I will, ...?” 

“The name's Justyne Gutgriever.“ 

„Fine then, Gutgriever.” 

She takes a fighting stance for herself, seeing her partner doing so as well. With a nod, they advance towards each other, no one making the first move.   
Suddenly, the fist of her combatant flies towards her shoulder, and she dodges by pulling back and going sideways, spinning to land a kick on the other's back, a move she evades by rolling forward. She waits for Gutgriever to get steady again and then jumps to hit her back with her own knee, effectively pushing her forward on her front. But the Forsaken saw something alike coming, catching herself and jumping right up again, albeit getting faced with a roundhouse kick as soon as her back is straight, knocking her down again. This time, she stays on the ground. 

“Dammit, you're good.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Well, I'm pretty new in the Decayed anyway, just got promoted yesterday evening...” 

“Oh, guess so. You seem quite good of a fighter though.” 

“Thank you.”

The woman says with a smile, getting up and dusting herself off and speaks up again.

“You haven't got the proper clothes yet.”

“Yes, I wanted to ask Noire for it when I see her.” 

“You don't have to. Come on, I'll get you some.” 

“Thank you.”

She smiles and follows the Forsaken to a storage room, her being quick to find fitting garments. 

“There. Go change in the back.” 

She smiles and does as suggested. They fit very well, and she likes the feeling against her skin. Heading out again, she sees Gutgriever nod appreciatively. 

“Look good.” 

“Thank you.” 

“No big deal. Fight me again?” 

“Why not.”

She shrugs and they head out, taking their stances again and starting the spar. Again, she wins due to some mistakes her opponent makes, taking her out with a roundhouse kick landing a good blow on her cheek, effectively sending the Forsaken to the ground, and helps her combatant up from the ground. 

“You turn your back towards me too much.” 

“I see... Promise I'll make it better.” 

She laughs. 

“Do what you like.” 

She takes her leave, heads to her room and washes herself, then puts on some fitting attire and heads for the throne room to talk to her queen about the matter in the Western Plaguelands. Arriving there, she feels the red eyes on herself, walking up and bowing before Sylvanas. 

“What is it you have come here for?”

The Dark Lady raises an eyebrow at her. 

“The letter you gave me last night. It seems I have to go to the Mender's Stead as soon as possible, since the Tauren there wishes to talk to me so we can find a solution for the destroyed area together.” 

“I see. I suppose you ask for an escort?” 

“I do. I wish to leave in the evening if possible to be there tomorrow at noon. And also, I will pay a visit to Andorhal then and look how the town fares.” 

“Do that. I will make sure your escort is waiting for you at the gates of the Ruins two hours before sunset. Have you got any wishes for people to take along?” 

“Ariadne Hollowpest. One of your Priests. She is a friend of mine and proved to be a good company quite often.” - “I will make sure she is there.” 

“Thank you, my queen.” 

She smiles, and Sylvanas nods shortly. With a bow, she leaves the throne room again, mind fully aware she won't be to see her queen in another while, now that they've just met again and started this... whatever it is. Shrugging, she heads back to her room to pack some things for her travel, polishing her armour again and her weapon as well. She always travels quite light, so the only other things she takes along are some other clothes for formal occasions she might have to attend. She heads deeper into the city, greeting a few acquaintances with a nod.   
Her destination is set before her eyes and she arrives within a few minutes. The Apothecarium. She will need some advice regarding the Plague in advance. Upon the time she is noticed, one of the Forsaken in black hurries to her and bows. 

“Commander. What can I do for you?” 

“I need to speak to your Master Apothecary. It is urgent.” 

“I'll go get him. Give me a minute.” 

Seeing her nod, the undead hurries away. She watches the alchemists doing their work, clearly impressed. They always set on developing their ultimate weapon to be even better. Admirable. As she hears footsteps coming closer, her eyes land on Faranell, the leader of the Royal Apothecary society, who comes towards her.

“Commander ______, what an honour to have you.” 

She nods.

“I am so pleased to hear our Plague could be helpful in winning Andorhal finally. A wonderful plan you had, indeed.”

“Stop the praise. If I had wanted to get buttered up, I would've gone elsewhere.” 

He bows. 

“Yes, yes, indeed. My apologies. How may I serve you?” 

“I want you to tell me if your researches considering the Plague have any information on how to heal a destroyed place.”

“Oh... Why are you interested in that, if I may ask?” 

“Because we might get serious problems with the Cenarion Circle if we cannot find a solution for the area in the Western Plaguelands that was ruined by the explosion.”

“I will see what we can find. When would you want to have the information?”

“I'll be leaving for the Mender's Stead in the evening. Some facts would be helpful by then, and if you find more, send a letter.”

“Yes, commander. I can assure you we will try our best.”

“You better do. I wouldn't be fond of getting rid of the Alliance there only to get problems with the Druids.” 

He bows again. 

“As you wish. One of the Apothecaries will accompany you there to help you.”

“Pleased to hear. Have a good day.” 

With a nod, she leaves and walks out of the Apothecarium. 4 hours are left until the departure, and she considers what to do now. A part of her wants to go to Sylvanas, but she doesn't listen to it. Instead, she heads into town, looking whether there might be anything to do for her, but none of the tasks offered are too good. Instead, she walks out of the town and summons her Deathcharger, deciding to go for a ride throughout Tirisfal Glades. She would love to go as far as the Silverpine Forest and go on there, but the way is as far as to go to Brill and she needs almost an hour to arrive there. Otherwise... if she wouldn't go far into the Forest, it may be possible.   
Clicking her tongue, she decides to give it a try. 

“Come on, Nightmare!”

The horse starts galloping, and she lets him go as fast as he desires, her mind set on the speed and excitement this ride brings. They arrive at the border within 45 minutes, less than expected, but she doesn't mind at all. They ride through the hills and come to a stop on top of one, admiring the view. Dark, dreary and in this, somehow beautiful.  
A movement catches her attention, and she quickly mounts up again to investigate. She moves through the small trees and bushes as unobtrusive as possible, making the horse disappear, and spies down into a small valley. What she sees, lets her brows furrow and her deciding to listen the best she can. Worgen are there, a few of them, not enough to be a pack albeit they look like they belong to the same one, and apparently, the leader of another is there too, along with his escort. She keeps her gaze locked on them, listening closely. 

“...to Gilneas to attack from there. Crowley may have retreated, but I will not give up against those walking corpses. Join me. Let's battle them together.”

The apparent other leader says, and the alpha responds. 

“We have been hidden so long here. Why should we come out now, and risk being detected by the Forsaken?”

“They will see you sometime anyway, Silverfur. Why not take the advantage?” 

“I will consider this, Bloodfang.” 

“Sure. My people will be here in a week. Better be decided by then.” 

The foreign Worgen leaves, his escort coming with him, and the other ones decide to move as well. She considers following them, but a Rogue or a Dark Ranger would be way more suitable now. She would be risking being detected, and surely overpowered. Instead, she decides to report. Instantly. Sylvanas has to know about this. When she is sure the Worgen are gone, she waits another 5 minutes and summons Nightmare then, mounting up and riding back as fast as possible. She can see parts of her escort at the gates already, riding over to them.

“Wait for a while. I've got something to do in the city, I should be back within no more than an hour.” 

“No worries, commander. We are here early, you've still got time. Seems urgent, judging the look on your face. We'll wait.”

One of the Deathguards speaks for them, and she smiles at him thankfully, turning away and making her horse gallop further in the ruins and then into the Undercity, impatiently waiting inside the elevator and gladly continuing her ride when she arrives in the Trade Quarter. 

To her dismay, it seems quite full, but most Forsaken make way for her, some even bow or salute. She nods towards those and arrives in the throne room not much later. But Sylvanas isn't there. She stares at the spot with a shocked gaze.

“She is in her office. Is it urgent?”

One of the Royal Dreadguards comes to her. 

“Very.” 

“I will take you to her, then.” 

He escorts her to the wooden doors shielding the Dark Lady's working place from her, and knocks on them loudly.

“Have I not told you not to interrupt me now?”

An annoyed voice comes from inside, and she wonders if bad news are really suited right now. But she has no choice. 

“My Lady, it is urgent.” 

She chuckles, remembering her first time standing in front of those doors. 

“Fine.”

Sylvanas commands from inside, and the doors are opened by the guard, making way for her to step inside, where they are closed again. She waits patiently for Sylvanas to look up from the letter she is just writing, and when she does so, the red eyes widen a bit in surprise. 

“I thought you had already left.” 

“No, I was out for a ride in the Silverpine Forest.” 

“And why is that supposed to be urgent?”

The queen asks, voice a hint sharper. 

“I saw two alphas of different Worgen packs meet and watched them. Thought you may be interested to know Ivar Bloodfang tries to recruit the other Silverpine packs to fight you, supposedly to take back Gilneas.” 

“WHAT?!” 

Sylvanas has arose from her chair and bangs her hands on the table, a mix of shock and anger in her eyes. 

“I thought we annihilated all of them?!” 

“Apparently not. The leader of the other pack had the last name of 'Silverfur'. I do not know where they have their shelter, though. Albeit I suppose somewhere in the mountains.” 

“Why didn't you follow them?”

The Dark Lady's eyes narrow dangerously with her question.

“The risk was too high. My chance of being detected is far greater than that of a Rogue or a Dark Ranger. And they would've known about me then, and maybe that would have made them be more in favour of joining Bloodfang.”

Sylvanas nods, red orbs a bit milder again.

“So they have not become allies yet?” 

“Silverfur said he would think about it. Bloodfang gave him a week to decide. All I can do is try to mark the spot where I saw their meeting.” 

The Banshee Queen nods and takes a map of the Silverpine Forest from one of the shelves, rolling it out on the desk.

“Show me.” 

She circles her finger around a small region. 

“About there. I didn't have a map with me, but it was a fairly small valley with bushes surrounding the hills around.”

“I will send some Rogues and maybe one of the Dark Rangers there. I appreciate you told me this, ____. ” 

She smiles, well aware Sylvanas just used her name. 

“I guess I have to go now. Still need to put on my armour and take my bags to go to the Mender's Stead.” 

“When do you expect to be back?” 

She cannot read what stands in the Dark Lady's eyes, and just shrugs. 

“I do not know. Maybe 4 days. Maybe a week, possibly two.” 

Her queen's eyes narrow at the last word, and she seems to consider something. 

“What are you thinking about?”

The question slips past her lips without her being fully aware of what she just asked, and Sylvanas' eyes are directed to her, giving a slightly amused, but also sceptical look. The Dark Lady chuckles under her breath and steps close, so close she can feel the cold radiating off of her, moves her chin aside and kisses one love bite she left on the Death Knight's neck. Her ears fall down in shock, a tingle spreading throughout her body when she realises... She intakes a sharp breath which hitches in her throat, turning into a soft gasp when she feels her queen's hands sliding down her body. 

“M-my lady, as much as I... my task... I really am afraid I'll have to go...” 

Abruptly, Sylvanas lets go of her, paying a last look to the commander's form which practically screams for her touch.

“Don't let me wait too long.”

The Banshee Queen's voice is low and commanding, sending shivers down her spine and making her nod automatically.   
She bows hastily. 

“I will not disappoint you, my queen.” 

“I don't expect you to.”

Sylvanas replies with a slight humorous undertone, and the Death Knight heads out of the office, practically running towards her chamber to set her mind on other things than the one she just declined. With a sigh, she lets herself sink down at the door. Did she really just refuse what she dreamed of almost every time? Good, her duty is important, but Sylvanas looked so stressed... she had wanted to set her mind on other things as well, maybe... She growls. 

“I am such an idiot.”

She mutters to herself, but turning back is not an option. Clicking her tongue at her own stupidity, she decides getting the deal with the Circle over as quickly as possible.   
She changes into her armour, strapping her weapon to herself and heading back out, locking the door and almost running through the city to get to the soldiers waiting for her. She gets an occasional unfriendly look when she pushes herself through the crowd, but when she finally is in the elevator, she allows herself to sigh and relax for the moment. Stepping out and into the throne room Terenas used to sit in, she pays a glimpse at the blood on the ground that has been avenged. She remembers the time when she helped bringing down the Lich King. It hadn't even been that long after the long yearned retrieve of her free will. Shaking her head at that, she realises she made it quite far since then, and yet has a way to go.   
She sees her escort waiting for her, all Forsaken, some of them part of the forces she fought for Andorhal with. 12 in total, two Death Knights among them, mostly Deathguards. And Ariadne, just as she wished, as well as an Apothecary that Faranell had promised her. She nods towards him, and he nods back. Her friend, on the other side, greets her with a warm (as far as that's possible) smile, waving her hand slightly. She comes to a stop in front of the Forsaken, raising her voice. 

“I do not wish for any incidences on this trip. We want to solve the problem at hand, not open up new ones. Keep calm and collected as much as you can, no matter what the Druids may say to you. Should anyone of you be hurt by a member of the Circle, report to me instantly. We will have to stay diplomatic in this mission, since we've got enough opponents in this world and do not need a new one. I want this over swiftly. Understood?” 

The soldiers murmur approvingly, and she gives the signal to mount, beginning the journey to deal with the wound she opened in the Western Plaguelands. She hopes the Druids won't be too uncontrolled in their anger, as shedding blood there may result in a way she cannot and does not want to imagine.  
When they leave the ruins, she can swear she feels a gaze on her, and turning her head back, she thinks – maybe just a hope – she can spot red glinting on top of one of the rooftops of what the Capital City of Lordaeron once was, but that surely is just the dim light fooling her eyes. She forces her head to the front again, trying to focus her mind on her task, and makes her Deathcharger fall into a gallop, the escort following closely.  
Again, she has to go away from the place she wants to be.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys I'm literally so sorry for abandoning this fanfic for so long. I just had so much to do and then I lost motivation to write for this during a while... and now that I've got Legion (finally), I've realised how much I actually want to still do with this fic. So here, have the next chapter. And please, forgive me.

When she gets close to the Mender's Stead, she can make out some Druids already waiting for them, but keeps up the speed until they are almost there, only then telling to slow down and eventually dismounting a few metres away. A Troll walks over calmly, giving a nod as a greeting.

“Can I get ya horses to da stables?”

Her soldiers give affirming replies while she just releases her Deathcharger back into the shadows, winking to Ariadne as she gives hers away. They walk into the Druid's camp, and she can practically feel the hate in their gazes. A Tauren with white fur walks up to her and bows once.

“I suppose you must be commander ______?”

“I am.”

“I'm pleased you've come. I'm Adrine Towhide. We corresponded.”

“I recall that. Can my soldiers camp safely somewhere around here?”

“Yes, but I'd advise you to do it just outside of the main camp. The mood is... difficult.”

“I understand that. When do you want me to come meet you for a talk?”

“As soon as you've set up your tents. You can find me in the large one over there. I will be waiting with some others.”

“I'll be there soon. Give me an hour or two.”

“As you wish, commander.”

She smiles and then turns around towards her escort, setting up the tents they brought and helping where she can. When all is done, she asks Ariadne as well as the Deathguard Sergeant, named Gunner, and Apothecary Keever to accompany her to the meeting. They obviously come with her, and as she walks through the Stead again, she feels a bit safer. Stopping in front of the large tent she was said the Druids would be in, she clears her throat.

“Towhide. May I come in?”

“You may, commander.”

She walks in, her escort following closely. Inside, four Druids are waiting. Towhide, as well as a brown-furred Worgen and a Troll, and also a Night Elf that seemingly radiates a great amount of power. She bows shortly to all of them, before she steps ahead.

“I am Commander ______, those who accompany me are Apothecary Keever, Sergeant Gunner and Ariadne Hollowpest. Might I ask for your names?”

Towhide smiles at her and gestures to the other people in the tent.

“The Worgen is Penrod Brownrigg, and the Troll has the name of Shun'Nanji. And finally, this is Archdruid Lilliandra.”

“Archdruid?”

The Night Elf smiles at her.

“Indeed. I was sent here because I've dealt with the Plague in Icecrown back then. I want us all to find a solution for this matter. You see, we mourn the loss of that land... we've done an awful lot of work to put these lands back in shape, and now, you've destroyed them...”

Something about the tone of the Archdruid makes her feel bad about her action, and she hates that. Dealing with rage is easy, but that sad disappointment.... Anger rises within her, and one of her fists clenches. Suddenly, she feels a hand on her shoulder, and when she turns her head, she can make out Ariadne smiling at her reassuringly. She gives a short thankful look in response before turning back to the Druids. 

“I'm aware my orders destroyed the land, but it was the only way for the battle over Adorhal to finally come to an end. I wish there would've been a better way, but there wasn't.”

The Worgen growls.

“You could've just surrendered.”

She laughs, a cold sound with death ringing below.

“The Alliance could just have accepted their defeat. If they had, nothing of this would've happened.”

Brownrigg snarls but says nothing more. She smirks for just the split of a second and then sets her attention back to the meeting. The Archdruid raises an eyebrow and then sighs. 

“Whoever is responsible in long sight, it has happened. And now we have to find a solution. You are a Blood Elf... have you got any information on the so-called Dead Scar in your lands?”

“No. I haven't been to Quel'Thalas since my death... and that was during the start of the invasion.”

The Night Elf clicks her tongue. 

“Unfortunate. Is anyone you know able to provide it?”

She shrugs. 

“Possibly one of my former second-in-commands. I could send a letter to Silvermoon to get someone here.”

“How long would it take for them to travel?”

“I do not know for sure. If they take a good Dragonhawk, maybe a day, although two is more likely. Add the time the bird needs and I'd say up to four days.”

“That's quite long... is there a faster way?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe someone is in Andorhal.”

“It is worth a try. Would you be so kind and send a messenger over there to ask?”

“Of course. Sergeant Gunner, would you be so kind and tell Yaizaali to go?”

The Forsaken bows to her and leaves with the promise to be back soon.

“Who's dat?”

The Troll Druid named Shun'Nanji steps forward, a curious look in his eyes. 

“One of the Death Knights I took with me. A female Troll who is said to be a fast and reliable comrade. I've fought at her side in the past, and those sayings are true.”

He nods and steps back. Towhide turns her attention towards the Apothecary.

“Keever, am I right?”

“Yes. What do you require?”

“Do the effects of the Plague ever wear off?”

He looks at her for allowance to share the information, and she nods. It's not top secret after all.

“Yes. Depending on the concentration, it takes a while. Fire usually helps.”

“Are you saying we should burn the part?! The risk is setting the entire woods aflame!” 

The Archdruid looks shocked, but ____ shakes her head.

“No. We've already taken care of that. There were bombs attached that burned the Plague away.”

“You... risked the life of the wood?!”

“If you feel the need to put it like that, yes. Would you rather have the Plague spreading?”

“No, but-”

“Then please, don't complain about that. The Plague is way more devastating to nature than a fire.”

The Night Elf's eyes narrow, and she opens her mouth to say something back, but then just glares at her. The entrance to the tent opens and Gunner comes back in, saluting her.

“She is on her way. Says she'll be riding like the wind.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

“It is my honour to serve.”

She smiles at him, and the Worgen in the room growls before taking a step ahead.

“Whatever we do, it is safe to say that nothing will grow there during the next months, years probably.”

“Sadly...”

The Archdruid sighs, and again, the tone of her voice annoys ____. Towhide snorts once and then, her ears twitch with an idea.

“Well, even if so, that patch of dead soil may be of use for us.”

“How so?”

“We'll be able to say for sure when things can regrow and take studies on that. Maybe correspond with our people in Northrend and other infected lands. I do admit that the destruction there is bad. But focusing on hate or sadness will not take us further.”

“Still, I don't suppose da Druids will forgive her. At least not soon. Some will never.”

Shun'Nanji shakes his head, a bit sad, while Brownrigg just growls again.

“I will never. She didn't only destroy these lands... she also killed my future in-laws.”

“Graham and Ruth Oxworth?”

To Ariadne's question, he nods and sends ____ a hateful glare.

“Have you got any idea how much my fiancée is grieving?”

“As I said. If the Alliance had just accepted their defeat, this wouldn't have happened. It's their own fault.”

“It's not their fault that they've been commanded there!”

“But did any of them say a word that you sometimes just have to accept your defeat with honour?!”

“Don't say things you don't know a word of!”

“I know more of that than you ever will!”

“Oh, and why exactly did you turn against the Lich King then? Weren't you defeated?”

Her eyes widen in shock to that, and she hears almost everyone in the room gasping before rage takes over her mind.

_That was too far._

“Listen closely, Worgen.”

Her voice is cold with death and furore.

“You know _nothing_ of that nor will you ever, and thank whatever you believe in for that. Don't you dare compare that to this. I may have been defeated, but that was my death. And that is in the past. The me from then is _dead._ I am _dead_. Arthas suppressed any emotions I had. I was forced to be a tool and nothing more. Forced to kill innocents. Forced to kill children. Forced to kill my once best friend. And I felt nothing while doing that, apart from a twisted joy he set in us. And then, he left us to die. Everything came back at once. What I had done. What I am. I don't have a number of Death Knights who actually tried to or ended their life after that. But I didn't. I swore revenge. The service under him still suppresses my sense for mercy sometimes. And now, he is dead once and for all. There were another few of my kind who ended themselves now, but I didn't. For I have found a place where I belong. The Forsaken may not have been through all I have been through or may not remember as detailed as I, but they understand. They taught me how to cherish what I have left and how to live on with it. Sylvanas herself gets so many of our struggles. She didn't trust us at first, just like most leaders, but she was the first to see we are what we claimed to be. Undercity still is a place where a Death Knight can feel welcomed. And for that, I will serve her. And if that means blowing up a patch of grass and killing people who try to retake what belongs to the Forsaken, I will gladly do it.”

Silence stands in the room for a while.

“But Lordaeron belongs to the Alliance.”

She laughs again, hollow and unearthly.

“No. It belongs to the Forsaken, and thus, to the Horde.”

“How do you want to set foot on your claims? We have the history of a kingdom on our side.”

“See, Worgen. If, let's say, the Goblins left the Horde and joined you, would their lands belong to the Horde?”

“No. Of course not. But their lands never belonged to the Alliance.”

“How about Blood Elves, then? Quel'Thalas was once part of the Alliance as well, and now it is part of the Horde.”

“They committed treason in Outland!”

“Don't look at me like that while you're saying this. I was in Archerus at that time.”

“It was their choice to leave though. The Forsaken never chose that.”

“It happened though. Did the Worgen choose to be cursed?”

He growls. 

“Lordaeron belongs to the Forsaken, as it was and still is their home. If the Alliance would've accepted us, it would be theirs. But Varian couldn't see past the appearance and past of the Forsaken. Thrall could. So now, these lands are ours.”

“No! They still belong to the Alliance because Lordaeron never left it!”

“They left it in the moment they were refused to be-”

“ENOUGH! I'VE LET YOU BOTH TALK WAY TOO LONG!”

The Archdruid has stood up, rage in her eyes.

“I HAD HOPED YOU MAY FIND A CONSENT IN YOUR DISCUSSION, BUT APPARENTLY, YOU ARE UNABLE TO. THIS MEETING IS NOT ABOUT WHO IS THE RIGHTFUL OWNER OF ANDORHAL. FOR NOW, THE FORSAKEN ARE.”

____ looks at Brownrigg with a smug, victorious smirk she cannot contain in that moment.

“BUT STILL, WE HAVE MORE PRESSING MATTERS AT HAND. FOR EXAMPLE, HOW THE WOODS THAT COMMANDER ______ DESTROYED WILL HEAL AGAIN.”

The Worgen now snarls at her, but amusement shines in his eyes due to the fact that Lilliandra's rage is far more directed at her. She rolls her eyes to this. The Archdruid sighs once and massages her temple when the entrance of the tent flaps back and a figure walks in, a male Blood Elf Mage who bows once.

“Commander ______, it's an honour to meet you in person. I am Jeillan Rosewhisper and was sent here by a Troll Death Knight with the name of Yaizaali. I have some information on the Dead Scar.”

“I'm glad to have you here.”

The commander nods towards him and offers a small smile before motioning for him to come forth and introducing the other people at the meeting to him. He greets them with the polite, albeit slightly uppish tone most Sin'dorei seem to have nowadays, and then starts giving the information they seek.

“I was part of the research team for the Dead Scar in Quel'Thalas before I moved out to see a bit of the world, collect some information on the Scourge. Andorhal was a good opportunity for me and I planned to collect all data I'd gathered and then go back – you're lucky I'm just done. I took a bat here. What I can tell you is the following: Since the Third War, nothing has grown there, but also, the undead are still shambling there and we suppose they will for another few decades. The soil hasn't burned there like it did here and back then at the Wrathgate – although I don't suppose we could take much information from that because, well, nothing really grows there. Maybe something will here, though, albeit it's possible it may look more like the Ghostlands than normal woods.”

“Is it possible for some researchers of your kind to come here and help us?”

“When I'm back in Silvermoon, I will ask them to. Being as it is, we could also take advantage from studies done here.”

“Thank you. Will it take long?”

“I suppose I'll be back home tomorrow and depending on which way they choose to take and how much they pack, they can be here in a week or two at the latest.”

“It sounds good. Commander ____?”

“Yes, Archdruid?”

“You can go. We cannot use your qualities around here and I don't suppose you'd be welcome for long.”

“I understand that. But as I promised Sylvanas to take responsibility for this... should I be able to do anything, just write a letter. Also I'll leave the Apothecary and anyone of my escort who wishes to stay here.”

“Thank you. I will see everything done.”

“Just one thing left, Archdruid... If I get word of any of people here or the citizens of Andorhal hurt by one of you, they will face my wrath.”

The Archdruid nods, and she shoots a glare at the Worgen before turning around and leaving the tent, marching up to her escort and sighing.

“Apparently, they don't need us. Those who wish to may stay here with Apothecary Keever. The rest, please pack up and head back to the Undercity with Sergeant Gunner, apart those who wish to pay a short visit to Andorhal with me.”

They quickly assign into three groups, and in the end, only Ariadne comes with her to Andorhal, 6 head back and 5 choose to stay. She nods and helps packing up the things, then bids her farewell.

“I will see you all in the future, I hope. Dark Lady watch over you.”

After that being said, Ariadne and her turn their mounts in the direction of the town and start riding.

“Your speech was impressive.”

When she turns her head towards her friend, she smiles.

“You really think so?”

“Yes. I've never really heard a Death Knight tell their view of things, to be honest. Would you do me the favour? It interests me.”

She chuckles. 

“What do you want me to tell?”

“How it was for you serving the Lich King. The time after you broke free. And finally, when he was dead.”

“Hmmm... let's see. I was killed when I was about 130, and I wasn't immediately raised. I had fought hard... I actually tried to take Arthas head-on. But he killed me. Cut me open from my right hip to left shoulder. I don't know what happened then... I woke up to the pain of being torn from death. I felt dark power coursing through me and a part of me being ripped apart... I was in a set of armour I did not know. Arthas had risen me personally to become his tool of destruction. My will was not my own and I knew it. I did all those horrors, I slaughtered the Scarlets and villagers, but I felt nothing. It seemed like my sense was to serve him, know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I recall feeling similar. Go on.”

“Anyway, after a while, I was chosen to be his champion... and then he abandoned us. My will became my own... and with it, I felt. It came to me what I had done, how much blood was on my hands. Many went insane from it after we'd taken Archerus for us. The worst moment for me was when I came back to the place I killed my once best friend... Lady Eonys. I did break down in tears for the first time after my death... and the last. For there, I swore revenge to the man who made me kill her. I went to Orgrimmar first, only to be covered in foul-smelling substances. The Horde accepted me reluctantly. I went to the Undercity in the end, I'd found a certain Forsaken in Orgrimmar who helped me make the decision.”

She winked at Ariadne, who just laughed.

“I have no idea who you're talking about.”

“Weird, you seem to know her quite well.”

“Do I?”

“I suppose so.”

Ariadne laughs again and winks back before gesturing for ____ to continue her story.

“When Arthas was dead, life lost it's sense for a while. He had died and my ambitions for my existence were fulfilled, why go on? But something made me resist killing myself. I couldn't do it. I had sworn an oath to serve the Forsaken, and I'd fight for them until the day I died... and just killing myself seemed so weak. What if they might need my service again one day? I went on, although I admit I did slack it a bit during the Battle for Gilneas in hope to be, well, killed. Soon after, I was ordered to Andorhal and found small sense in that fight... and you know the rest.”

“And you really have never returned to your former home?”

“As I said, the me from the is dead. I suppose I also am a bit afraid to find out what happened to my family. I fear they are dead, I fear they are alive. I don't know how I'd handle meeting them again. Meeting anyone from my life then again.”

“I see...”

“What happened to your family?”

“Most were killed and raised. My mother is a meat vendor somewhere in Outland as she wanted a fresh start there, my father died in the Battle for Gilneas and one of my two brothers is a Deathguard, but we haven't got any contact. My family is practically dead to me.”

“And the other brother?”

“Alive. He is part of the Argent Crusade, I've found out.”

“Did you ever meet him again?”

“No... I haven't heard from him since he eloped with his lover to Stormwind in hope for a good life there.”

“Was his lover not accepted by your parents?”

“No. His last letter made quite clear that it was another man... and my parents were always clearly against that.”

“Would you have accepted it?”

“Hey, I'm still your friend after the naughty shit you've done with the Banshee Queen.”

“You got a point there. How do you know that he's member of the Crusade?”

“I saw him and recognised him in Icecrown... he didn't notice me though. But he seems to be happy with his husband.”

“So they married after all.”

Ariadne nods and flashes her a quick smile.

“He bears the same last name he wrote in that letter. I'm happy for him.”

“Will you ever make contact again?”

“I want to... yet I am afraid. So afraid that he, after all, will not tolerate the fact what I am... what his family has become.”

“Hey, he is in the Argent Crusade after all. I know them to be quite tolerant. Also he's gay. That means he already is part of a minority. Doesn't that make it more likely to accept you?”

“Maybe, but...”

“Just give it a try. I'll help you if you want to.”

“You would?”

“You are what I consider my best friend. Of course I would.”

Ariadne abruptly stops her horse and dismounts. Confused, ____ does the same and walks up to her.

“Are you okay?”

Suddenly, she is wrapped in a hug by the younger female, feeling a sob as she slowly returns the gesture. She pats her companion's back, albeit such small displays of friendship and affection in such do feel a bit awkward in death. 

“I just... it's amazing to hear someone call me that after so long. Thank you.”

“It's only the truth. Of course I will support you.”

Ariadne smiles at her before ending the hug and mounting again, and she does the same. Her friend sighs, the smirks at her.

“Then let's go to the place of the victory that got you into the Dark Lady's bed.”

“ _Ariadne!_ ”

“What? That was one of the primary reasons you fought so hard, wasn't it?”

“... partly.”

She hears a laugh from the Priest, and shaking her head, she makes Nightmare run.

“Last to be there is a rotten egg!”

“We are partially rotten, you know?”

“Oh damn. Well.”

Chuckling, they ride on, side by side, until they cam make out the town in between the trees.


End file.
